


Across My Memory

by WonderstruckSwan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Duckling, F/F, F/M, I will add more characters+ships as I plan and write, Multi, Neal's name is Robert now okay?, Princess Emma Swan, a small bit of swanfire with young bae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderstruckSwan/pseuds/WonderstruckSwan
Summary: The Evil Queen cannot be stopped. After 23 years she breaks the peace and happiness that the Enchanted Forest had seen and returns to do what she vowed to do long ago; cast the Dark Curse. With only her memories intact, Princess Emma must step up and fight for her kingdom and their happy endings, as well as her own. But with the Evil Queen watching, the slightest misstep could have catastrophic consequences. For the first time, Emma fights a battle alone.





	1. Chapter 1

As she rolled out of bed, Jenny cursed every god she could possibly think of. When her bare feet hit the lilo she bit back a shriek as cold jabbed at her feet and sent the sensation through her legs, and the frigid morning air did not help. She stumbled in the almost complete darkness in her t-shirt before her hands managed to find her sweat pants and she pulled them on, all the while her alarm clock played its infernal tune of “beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep”, drilling into her head.

“Shut up!” she snapped, slamming her fist on it to turn the damn thing off. “Jonathan?” Jenny opened her door and marched down the hall with the intention of pounding on her brother’s door, only to hear his voice coming from the kitchen.

“I’m up!” Jenny ran the short distance to the kitchen to see her 15-year-old brother sitting on the kitchen table, bowl of cereal in hand and school uniform on. On, not at, despite the many lectures she had given him about how he should definitely not put his ass where they eat. “Chill.”

“Don’t tell me to chill,” she sighed but there was nothing behind her words. After a few seconds of silence, he slid off the table. “Good boy. I’ll go get dressed.”

“I’ll put on your coffee,” he called back. Despite everything, her lack of sleep, the impending long day ahead of her, which would no doubt bring asshole customers, she smiled. She had her brother around to do angelic things like this, so how bad could it be?

                                                                                                                *****

_Killian’s hand squeezed Emma’s softly, his thumb running over her knuckles and Emma allowed a small giggle to escape her lips. She hated clichés, always did and always would, but she did feel if she was any happier she would burst._

_Her family stood behind her. She knew her father was crying, sap that he was. But she was her father’s girl after all. Her mother was managing to keep herself composed, which Emma saw as a minor miracle. She half expected her mother to burst into tears before she even reached the altar. Then there was her little brother. She had talked her mother into allowing Robert to wear dress much more casually for her wedding, knowing that he would feel much more comfortable in his shirt and breeches than any kind of princely garments._

_Then there was her son. Her amazing, beautiful son sat closest to the alter, his hands clasped together so tightly his poor knuckles would be turning white as he beamed at her. He was trying so hard to hide how bored he was. And she loved him for it._

_“If you’d like to recite your vows?” the priest asked._

_“Emma,” Killian began. His voice trembled, and Emma tightened her grip on his hand. “When we met I was a broken, desperate man who only cared about getting my revenge, however bloody that path would be. But then we met, and you took me on that quest to save your parents and everything changed. You inspired me and showed me that goodness still exists in a soul even when it’s shrouded in darkness, you just have to fight for it. You showed me how to fight, like you did. You are the bravest and kindest person I have met, and I pledge the rest of my days to holding you and helping you as you progress to ruling this land, and to never for one second make you feel as though you are any less than perfection.”_

_Emma couldn’t stop a tear rolling down her face and Killian lifted his hand to gently wipe it away. She felt like she was perfection in that moment, with her subjects gathered around her, her family watching her and Killian pledging his love to her._

_“Killian. I was raised on stories of true love and those epic romances. But the thing is I never thought it was in the cards for me. I thought that being a Princess stopped me from getting that. Then I almost knew some sort of love and then I lost it and I lost all hope. But then I met you and everything changed. You’ve seen all of me, the good, the bad, the inbetween, and you loved all of it. You make me feel like, no matter what gets thrown at me, I can overcome it. I want you to be my partner in everything I do, for the rest of our lives.”_

_“Do you, Killian Jones, take this woman to be your wife, and promise to love, honour and obey her until death do you part?”_

_“I do.”_

_“Do you, Princess Emma, take this man to be your husband, and promise to love, honour and obey her until death do you part?”_

_“I do.” Every fibre in Emma’s body felt like it would burst. If she could, she’d take this single moment and hold onto it. She saw herself in ten years, being worried and confused with the duties of being Queen, and just allowing this one memory to calm her._

_Just before her and Killian’s lips could touch, the doors to the ballroom flew open._

_Emma had never seen the woman who came in, but she didn’t need to. Her reputation preceded her. Despite falling from grace, she still walked with the arrogance of a false queen. Dressed in black from head to toe, Emma remembered that her mother told her it was “her colour, it matched her soul”. Age had taken its toll on her; her raven hair had begun to turn grey._

_She was the one who haunted Emma’s dreams as a young girl and she had prayed she would never see her. She took comfort in the fact that her parents had banished her to the depths of the wilderness, where she would live out her days in misery and pain._

_“The Evil Queen!” Grumpy exclaimed, sending a gasp rippling throughout the crowd. As she approached the altar, Emma could see the resemblance to her portrait that her mother insisted on keeping. Except where she looked softer, kinder in the pictures, what was before her looked like a statue come to life. There was nothing to her features, no warmth or humanity. Just a smirk that promised destruction._

_“How dare you show your face here!” her father roared as he unsheathed his sword and marched towards her. A flick of the Queen’s wrist and red magic ran through him, freezing him in place._

_“Father, no!” Emma shouted, running from the alter to her father. She sighed in relief when she felt a pulse underneath her fingertips._

_“Calm down dear, he’s not dead.” The Queen stepped forwards and forcefully grabbed her chin._

_“I’d thank you to keep your paws off my wife,” Killian snarled, grasping the handle of his sword._

_“I won’t harm her. Or any of you pathetic little creatures. My visit is social.” The Queen dropped her chin and turned to address the crowd. “For I bring a gift for the newlyweds. My gift to you is this happy, joyful day. For tomorrow, I finish what I promised twenty-three years ago. I cast my curse.”_

_“You can’t,” Emma said through gritted teeth. Of all the nightmares, the idea of the Dark Curse haunted her the most. Being trapped in a different mind, far from her family, trapped in an endless, miserable day. “My parents told me they stripped you of your magic, you can’t cast this curse.”_

_“Magic, my dear, can be taken. Just like your parents took mine, I took magic from another. Enough to cast my curse and doom you and the rest of your family to the misery you deserve. On the day of your darling son’s seventh birthday, everything you have will be mine.”_

_“Not on my watch, Your Highness,” her mother shouted, causing Emma to flinch. Snow pushed her way through the crowd with her father’s sword in her hand. “The only one who deserves misery is you!”_

_She swung at the Queen, but in a puff of black smoke, she was gone. The sword sliced the thin air._

_*****_

“You’re late,” Granny called as Jenny slid in the door. “Nine means nine, girl. Not nine oh five.”

“I know, Ms Lucas, and I’m so sorry,” she sighed. “Thing is, Jonathan’s bus was late, and I don’t like to leave until I see him get on the bus and then I ran here as fast as I could….” She stopped when she saw Mrs Lucas smile.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you and that brother of yours, Jenny Bird.” Jenny allowed herself to smile as Mrs Lucas patted her on the shoulder. “Now come on, lasagne won’t defrost itself.”

If there was a God, Jenny would thank them over and over for Mrs Lucas for giving her this job no questions asked. Granny’s, the diner she ran with her granddaughter Ruby, was always her and Jonathan’s favourite childhood spot. She remembered her parents taking them every Friday and splitting ice cream sundaes with them. Chocolate for her and her dad, strawberry for her mom and Jonathan.

Then there was the car crash. No more parents, no more ice cream sundaes, no more Friday night trips to Granny’s. Just a confused and sad eight-year-old and a terrified sixteen-year-old with no money and no means of providing for him. Granny had come to her after delivering another casserole one night and whispered to her that if she wanted, she could take a part time job at her place. Job meant money, and money meant paying the rent, getting food, they bought themselves and most importantly, it meant Mayor Mills might not ship Jonathan off to a foster home like she threatened to do every time she saw them together.

It didn’t mean she enjoyed it. It was long hours, stressful work, especially at the lunch rush, ungrateful customers, few tips. But it gave her money and put the day in. So, she couldn’t complain.

Emma went about her day, serving and cleaning tables, washing dishes, handing out to go orders. When she started she had been awful, mixing up orders, missing customers, forgetting to clean a table but now she ran through it like a professional. As if she was born to clean tables.

“All right, Leroy, enjoy your burger,” she said with just the right amount of sarcasm in her voice as she handed Leroy a to-go bag.

“Don’t tell me what to do, sister,” he scoffed. Of all the customers, Leroy had to be her least favourite.

 _Second least favourite_ she thought as the bell jingled and the Mayor entered, her son in tow.

“Hello Madam Mayor,” she greeted with a warm smile on her face, doing everything but drop to her knees and beg “please see me as a good and responsible guardian for my brother.” Regina cast a quick glance at her, nose wrinkled. Jenny wondered why she chose to take her son to eat in a place she clearly saw as beneath her.

“Indeed, Miss Bird. Still working here?”

“Just haven’t found my true calling yet,” Emma chirped, while wondering if shoving the steak knife through her skull would be worth it.

“I hope for your brother’s sake you find it soon,” she said, the conversation quickly becoming a lecture. “Do you know how much a year at the University of Maine would cost for him?”

“Madam Mayor, he’s 16. I think it’s a little early to be thinking colleges,” she answered, laughing nervously.

“Is it?” She placed a hand on the back of Henry’s head. “The minute Henry was taken home, I started investing in college fund. I want him to be able to attend the school of his choice. You and Jonathan haven’t had that conversation, I assume?”

“No ma’am,” Jenny sighed. “We haven’t.”

“Let me give you some facts, Miss Bird. One year at the University of Maine would cost you over $24,000. And that’s here. What if he wants to go somewhere else? I doubt you will be able to scrape up half that money if you are stuck here for the next two years.” Jenny curled her hand into a fist. “But a nice foster family, a well-off foster family, they could send him anywhere he wants to go.”

“He doesn’t need a foster family,” Jenny argued. “He has me.”

“You?” the Mayor scoffed. “A high school drop out with no qualifications, no prospects, no future?”

“I’m taking night classes to get myself back on track,” she told her. The Mayor’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth fell into an ‘oh’ of surprise.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Mr Elliot from the high school is teaching me literature. He says I could pass and maybe if I apply myself and take more classes get my diploma. Maybe even go to college myself.”

“Indeed. Well I suppose that is nice to hear.” The Mayor shook her head, her lips pressed into a hard line. “Who knows? Perhaps you’ll surprise us all. Now onto my order, I’ll take a black tea.”

“No problem, Mayor Mills.” Jenny’s eyes fell on Henry’s small face, eyes glued to the jar of lollipops on the counter. “And if you want, little man can have a lollipop. They’re on the house.” Henry burst into a smile and he jumped slightly, tongue poking out already.

“I do hope you don’t feed Jonathan like that,” the Mayor sighed, eyeing the lollipops as if they were slugs that had slithered over her shoes. “Sugar is the enemy of child growth.” Henry tugged on his mother’s hand, silently pleading with her. “But I suppose one can’t hurt.”

Minutes later, Regina was seated at the table at the window, sipping on her tea while Henry made small talk with her.

“Poor kid,” she muttered so that only Ruby could hear. Ruby’s eyes flicked up from her phone momentarily to watch the scene.

“Can’t imagine it’s easy, living with her,” she agreed.

“Like some sort of backwards Annie,” Jenny sighed. She couldn’t explain it, but she had always had a soft spot for Henry. The Mayor said that she had adopted when he was weeks old after the birth mother put up a closed adoption. In the Mayor’s words, she had ‘wanted nothing to do with him’ and never missed an opportunity to talk about how much she had saved him.

If you asked Jenny, she would say it seemed the Mayor didn’t want much to do with her son either. She would see them out together, with him almost stumbling over himself to keep up with her long strides, and she didn’t care to look back. His tiny fingers fidgeted at his side or in his coat pocket while a black leather handbag hung from her perfectly manicured hands. She would glance around the street with ice in her eyes and he would look like a lost puppy at every candy store and toy shop and friend they passed.

Part of Jenny wished she could take the kid off the Mayor and let him live with her and Jonathan.

Henry glanced up at her and she poked out her tongue. When he did the same, she wanted nothing more than to lift him out of there and never turn back.

                                                                                                ******

_“Calm down, my love,” Killian pleaded with her as she stormed into her chambers, tearing off the crown of flowers she had chosen instead of a veil._

_“I can’t calm down, Killian,” she told him. “Not when the Evil Queen is going to take back everything that she wants. She’s going to tear us all apart forever.”_

_“Emma.” He took her face in his hand and pressed a kiss to her golden hair. “Nothing in the world could separate us.”_

_“He’s right,” her father said as he came in with her mother. “Nothing can tear this family apart.”_

_“Where’s Henry?” she asked._

_“In his room with your brother,” Snow said._

_“Is he okay?”_

_“As well as can be expected. He’s shaken up, he’s scared, but he’s okay.”_

_Emma rubbed her forehead and started pacing._

_“Henry turns seven in two months. Less than that. What do we do?” she asked, more to herself than anyone else._

_“Emma, calm yourself,” her father begged. “We defeated the Evil Queen before, we can do it again.”_

_“And how long did that take?” she asked. “You had years of war and fighting and even then, you barely even survived. We don’t have that!”_

_“We don’t have a way to stop her,” her mother agreed. “But we might have found a way to keep you safe. The wardrobe.”_

_Emma’s stomach clenched. She knew the stories of course, that her parents planned to put her in a wardrobe and she would come back to break the curse and save them. It never came to pass, of course. But she would grow up alone, unloved, unwanted. Believing her parents hated her. That was the worst curse Regina could have ever cast._

_“I-I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t go and leave you behind. Leave Robert and Henry behind-”_

_“Emma, it is your destiny,” her father insisted. “You are the first child of our True Love.” Tears welled in his eyes as he cupped her face. “I wish to the gods it didn’t have to end like this. I want you to stay here, in this realm, and rule your kingdom as it was meant to be.”_

_“This is only a precaution,” Snow whispered. “She may not even cast her curse.” David smiled and reached out for his wife. “We defeated her once and we will surely do so again.”_

_“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mama,” Emma said, smiling softly. She took her mother’s hand and let her lead her down the hall to her old nursery._

                                                                                                *****

“Mr Elliot.” Elliot looked up to see the Mayor standing in his classroom door. The kids had long cleared out by then; he was staying behind to catch up on some extra marking.

“Madam Mayor,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?” She stalked into his classroom, eyeing the chairs and desks with disdain. “Here, take my seat.” He got up and stood awkwardly across from her as she settled in his leather chair.

“I’m here because I have heard you have been teaching Jenny Bird,” she said calmly. “Is this true?”

“Yes, it is,” he said, puffing his chest out. “And she is doing fantastically, Miss Mills. And who knows, maybe when she gets more time, maybe when her brother moves out, she can take even more classes, and she-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about her plans for a diploma and college,” she sighed, waving her hand dismissively. “Mr Elliot, do you really believe that that is in Miss Bird’s best interests?”

“How could it not be?” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, she’s such a bright young girl, and her education was cut short. I only want to see her succeed in life. She deserves as much of a chance as anyone else.”

“And what about Jonathan?”

“Jonathan?” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes, Jonathan Bird, her younger brother,” the Mayor went on.

“I know who Jonathan Bird is, I just don’t understand what he has to do with his sister and her studies,” Elliot said. “He is as bright as his sister, although I daresay he could learn a thing or two about drive from her.”

“Yes, he is bright. And he needs to stay on track to success. And what he does not need is his sister, and guardian, distracted by commitments like this.” Elliot took in a deep breath and counted to five,

“Mayor Mills, I’m sure Jenny can manage just fine, as she has been for the past seven years since she lost her parents.” He perched himself on the edge of the desk. “Look, since she lost her parents, she has had nothing. She’s had to work to support herself and her brother, as well as raising him since she was still a kid herself. She needs this.”

“Well that’s my point isn’t it?” she snapped. “I am a mother, and I work. I don’t take time off from raising my son to do pointless activities, no matter how much I may want to. And how do you think not having his sister around for the better part of the day will affect Jonathan?”

“Mayor Mills, it is two hours, twice a week,” he pleaded. “I can cut back, but really, it’s barely taking a dent in her life.”

“Yes, you can cut back,” she said. “Stop the lessons altogether. Let her raise her brother in peace, instead of filling her head with this nonsense about colleges. And then, when her brother has grown, you can start again, maybe.”

“Mayor Mills, please,” he sighed. “Don’t do this. These lessons mean the world to her, to take them away would break her heart.”

“And build her character,” she replied, standing up from the seat. “Do it, Mr Elliot, if you have either of the Bird children’s best interests at heart.”

“And if I refuse?” Elliot’s voice was much smaller than he had intended it to be. The Mayor’s mouth quirked into a smile and she took one calculated step towards him.

“How do you think social services will react when they hear a 15-year-old boy’s legal guardian has been leaving him to have private meetings with one of his teachers?” She held up a hand to silence him before he could protest. “You know how persuasive I can be. Or have you forgotten how you got this job? Stop the lessons. And I know you know better than to mention my name.”

The Mayor strolled casually out of his classroom, dusting off her jacket as she went.

                                                                                                                ******

_Emma felt Killian’s arms wrap around her as he steadied her. She was strong, she knew she was, but the sight that greeted them in the nursery was too much for her to handle._

_The wardrobe, the one that was meant to be their salvation, or at least a tiny glimmer of hope, had been burned to ashes._

_Her knees gave out and Killian tightened his grip on her, swaying slightly and stroking her hair. It was basic instinct to him now. She heard him mutter “no” under his breath, saw him look to her parents in horror._

_“This can’t be happening,” Emma choked out. “How can she have gotten in here? How can she have known about the wardrobe?”_

“ _I thought you all put an enchantment on the lock to stop anyone who wasn’t of your blood from coming in,” Killian said. The enchantment was put on when the Queen was first banished. The magic even prevented Emma herself from being able to enter the room until she was a teenager. “A precaution” was what her parents had called it. “Nothing more” they had said. “The Queen will never come back.”_

_Emma could have laughed. Instead she settled for burying her face in her now-husband’s chest and choking back a sob._

_“Tell me there is a way out of this,” she sighed._

_“We’ll find a way, we always do,” her mother insisted. Emma shook her head. The sick feeling in her stomach worsened, threatening to bring up her breakfast._

_“I need a moment,” she mumbled and stormed out of the room. Faintly, she heard Killian move to follow her only to be stopped by her father. Emma pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle her cries._

_“Always a shame to see a bride crying on her wedding day,” a familiar voice remarked._

_“Merlin!” Emma exclaimed as she saw her former tutor, apparently having appeared out of nothing and leaning against the wall opposite her. “Don’t you ever knock?”_

_“I could but where’s the fun in that?” he smirked._

_“Merlin, the Queen is back,” Emma began. “She’ll cast her curse and we have two months to figure out how to stop her.”_

_“I know, Emma, I know,” he said. “I have something-”_

_“You do? What is it? Tell me!” Laughing slightly, Merlin placed his hands on her shoulders._

_“I think this may be something your parents would like to hear as well.” He offered her his arm and she gave a weak smile. She let him lead her back into the nursery._

_“Merlin!” Snow greeted with a smile, the kind of smile that said she knew everything would be all right. Emma envied her mother’s optimism._

_“I heard about the Evil Queen. And I think I have a solution,” he said._

_“You can stop the curse from being cast?” Killian asked. Merlin looked at him. Merlin was the closest thing Emma had to an older brother, and so when she first began seeing Killian, Merlin gave him the same treatment as her father had. The two had come to some form of alliance, even though Killian had remarked that Merlin was one of the few things in this realm that could scare him._

_“No. No one can. But I have these.” Merlin opened his hand and showed them two black stones._

_“Memory magic?” Emma asked, remembering learning about pebbles that could store memories from Elsa when she visited Arendelle. “How will this help us?”_

_“The curse will strip us of all our memories of who we once were,” he explained. “Think of these as back-ups. We can store our memories in here and find them when we’re under.” He took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, these are the only two we can take.”_

_“Can’t we get more from Arendelle?” Emma asked._

_“These are the only ones that will work in the Land Without Magic,” he told her. “So now we choose which two get to keep their memories.”_

_“Emma,” Killian said immediately. “Emma should keep hers.”_

_“He’s right,” her father agreed. “You were the original Saviour and you have the most control over your magic. You need to keep yours.” Merlin chucked one pebble through the air and Emma caught it._

_“Now that just leaves this one.” Merlin looked from Snow, to David, to Hook. “Who should join her?”_

_“You should,” Emma said. Merlin pretended to be shocked, but the way he smiled told her otherwise. She smiled back. “I’ll need you if things go south. You’re the only other one with magic and the wisest man we know.”_

_“Wisest person,” he corrected her. “Just to clarify. But I accept. Sleep with that stone under your pillow tonight and it will absorb your memories. Then have it on you when the curse hits.”_

_“Then I’ll remember who I am?”_

_“Not quite. You’ll only be able to access your memories when you need them most. When your cursed life is the darkest.”_

                *****

The moment the clock struck four, Jenny ran to clock out, hurriedly lifting her jacket from the rack.

“You’re in a rush today,” Granny remarked. “Home isn’t going anywhere you know.”

“I have a lesson today,” she explained. “With Mr Elliot. And he’ll kill me if I’m late.” After bidding farewell to Granny and Ruby, she ran out the door and to her house to grab her backpack before running to the high school, slowing down only when she called Jonathan.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I’ll do my homework and watch bad TV.”

“Okay. I’ll be back at six to make dinner so stay out of the cookie jar,” she ordered. She smiled when she heard him sigh on the other end. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sis.” He hung up just as she reached the steps of the high school.

Dropping out had been one of the hardest and most brutal decisions she had ever made. She didn’t care if it made her sound weird, Jenny adored school. She didn’t even mind getting up so early, she had loads of friends, she got on with teachers, she aced every class, she loved learning. It was amazing for her.

Then her parents died, Regina insisted she get a job or Jonathan would have to be sent away and she dropped out of high school. She and her friends drifted further and further apart until they eventually stopped talking to each other. The only learning she got was from documentaries on YouTube or library books, until the damn library closed down. Teachers regarded her with a friendly wave in the streets or a nod, but nothing else. She had gone from golden girl to outcast in all of six months.

So, when Mr Elliot, whom she had always adored, contacted her and asked about English literature classes, how could she refuse?

Jenny took the stairs two at a time until she reached Mr Elliot’s classroom. She found him leaning on the desk, his fingers tapping on the wood.

“Hey, Mr Elliot,” she greeted, sitting at a desk and pulling her books out of her bag. “You’re going to be so proud of me, I had a bunch of new thoughts over the last chapter and I thought we could start by-”

“Jenny,” he interrupted. “We need to talk.” Jenny frowned. He was never this sombre. Even at his most serious, he managed to have a smile.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to shake the uneasiness off.

“Jenny, I think it may be for the best if we stop the lessons.” He may as well have hit her.

“Stop?” she croaked out. “Why? Am I failing?”

“No, no of course not,” he said. “It’s just, with all your other commitments, your job, Jonathan, you can’t afford any distractions.”

“I’m not distracted,” she shouted before taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself. “I’m not. I work hard all the time, I cook every meal for Jonathan, I get him to bed on time, I do his laundry. Mr Elliot, I can balance myself here.”

“But how long can you do that, Jenny? How long before we start taking longer with our lessons? And Jonathan’s waiting at home with no dinner-”

“He’s sixteen he can cook for himself!” Emma exclaimed. Hot tears blurred her vision. “He’s not helpless.”

“I know that Jenny. But social services won’t. What if they do decide to check up on you and find you have been leaving him alone, without supervision? What will they do then?” Jenny gripped the desk so tightly her knuckles turned white, desperate for something to ground her. “And it’s taking up my time too. I have exams to grade, serious exams, and I can’t give them the attention they need if I’m teaching you. Jenny, I think you know this is for the best.”

“I don’t think that,” she mumbled pathetically. “I don’t. But if that’s what you think then fine.”

She lifted her bag and stormed out of the classroom, not even bothering to pick up her books as she left.

                                                                                                *****

“Jen?” Jonathan asked when she came in. “You’re home early, did Mr Elliot cancel?”

“You could say that,” she spat. She avoided his eyes as she ran to her bedroom. Her brother would not see her cry.

Once in the safety of her own room, she let the tears come. With her face buried in her pillow, sobs wrecked her body, choking on them. Her pillow grew so wet she couldn’t lie on it anymore, flinging it to the other side of the room and pressing her face onto the mattress instead.

She didn’t want to admit it, but she needed those classes. Between raising Jonathan and working she never got a chance to be herself except for those classes with Mr Elliot. Pouring over a novel, picking it apart and taking every detail, expanding on every metaphor, travelling with the characters, laughing, crying, gasping, receiving endless praise from Mr Elliot for her efforts. That had been an oasis for her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a purple pebble sitting on her bed. It must have been under her pillow the whole time. She had no idea how it had got there.

Her head throbbed, even more so when she sat up. She lifted the rock in her hand. It was smooth as glass and cold, which was welcome to her hot skin. If she didn’t know better, she’d have said it sparkled.

“Can you grant wishes?” she asked it, another sob bubbling up in her throat. “I could use a wish right now.”

A tear slipped from her face and landed on the pebble.

_The Enchanted Forest, her castle, ballgowns and swordfights, open seas and green fields, picnics with her family, laughing in the forest, chasing her brother, a kiss under the stars, her mother’s laugh, her father’s hug, her son’s kisses and her lover’s passion, lessons in the woods, in her room, leather bound books with ancient pages, a white dress and a crown of flowers and a dark cloud, promises, farewells, “I love you”s and goodbyes._

Emma, not Jenny, Emma, that was her name, dropped the rock. It had gone back to black, the way it had looked when Merlin gave it to her.

Merlin. Mr Elliot.

The curse.

Two lives, two sets of memories, waged war in her mind. Jenny, the waitress, the girl next door, the girl with two much on her plate, and Emma, the princess, the one with magic, the heir to the throne, the girl who read magic books when her mother thought she slept. Jenny was the dream, Emma was the reality. Jenny was her cursed self.

“Holy crap,” Emma sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma sat in a daze, letting her past memories, her real memories, consume her. Moments of her life flashed before her eyes, her first ball, sword fighting, her coronation, the day her brother was born, the day she met Killian, the day her brother was born. At first it felt like her mind was on fire as her memories raced around in her head, slotting themselves neatly into her timeline. Her head throbbed with weight of it all. She began to feel relieved at the fact that she was no longer trapped in another body and another mind, that she was free to act as she pleased, in control of herself again.

Then another memory came back to her, cutting through the haze in her mind. The day the curse was cast.

_“Mama!” Henry called as he stumbled through the smoke. Emma picked him up and held him close; his arms and legs wrapped around her body and he buried his head in her shoulder. “Mama I’m scared!”_

_“I know, my darling,” she told him. “It’ll all be over soon, I promise.” From outside her room, Emma could hear the clashes of swords and pained moans as men fell. She strained her ears, trying to recognise her husband or father. She kept stroking Henry’s head, in part because it would give him comfort and in part because it was keeping her grounded while grey smoke pounded outside their windows._

_The door shook and groaned. Someone was trying to get in. Emma put Henry down and raised her hands in anticipation, her heart pounding as the magic built up inside her._

_The Evil Queen broke the doors down and strolled into the room as if it was her own. The sight of her made bile rise in Emma’s throat. She smiled like a victor on the battlefield, and right there, she supposed that was what she was. For now, anyway._

_“We’ll defeat you,” Emma warned her. “My parents stopped you before and with me, my brother and my husband we can do it again.”_

_“Your parents?” she laughed. “Well I doubt your father will be much help from beyond the grave.” Emma sank to her knees._

_“No,” she said. “No, my father isn’t dead.”_

_“Who knows if he is?” the witch shrugged. “He could be. Not that it matters. In a few moments you won’t remember him. Or your mother. Or your beloved pirate.” She looked over at Henry, who was pressing his face into Emma’s shoulder. “Or your beautiful little boy.”_

_“My family always finds each other,” she said through gritted teeth. “And when we do we will finally make you pay.”_

_“I don’t doubt you will.” Regina sank to her level. In her eyes, Emma saw no kindness, no humanity. She may as well have been an animal._

_“Why are you like this?” Emma whispered. Regina grabbed her throat tightly, squeezing, making it next to impossible to breathe, and pulled her close._

_“I had my happiness taken from me,” she spat. “It’s time your mother had the same.” She dropped Emma onto the floor, her cheek stinging from the stone. Purple smoke crashed the windows and flooded in through the door. Henry screamed as the impact made him fall out of her arms._

_“Mama, Mama!” he called. Head ringing, Emma sat up and embraced him._

_“I’m here,” she said, coughing as the smoke filled her lungs. She couldn’t even see him or the Queen._

_“Where are we going?” Henry asked, clinging to Emma’s arms._

_“Somewhere completely awful,” Regina said. “Where the only happy ending will be mine.”_

_“Don’t listen to her Henry,” Emma whispered. “Because wherever we end up, we’ll win. Good always wins.”_

Emma wondered if Henry remembered what she said, even subconsciously. She hoped he knew that she was going to come for him, that she would save him from Regina.

That witch truly was awful. Taking her beloved son, her True Love, her lovely scrappy little monkey and turning him into her obedient puppy, worshipping and loving her, the woman who terrorised his family. Emma wanted to both cry for him and kill her for him.

“Jenny?” Robert, Jonathan, she corrected, opened the door, looking concerned. “Jen are you okay? You seemed really upset when you came in.” He came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Were you crying?”

Emma was silent for a while, searching his face. The same green eyes, identical to hers, the same brown curls, the same freckles and long arms and legs and skinny frame. On the surface he looked just like her baby brother. But when she looked into his eyes she didn’t see him. She didn’t see the boy who passed notes to her during audiences and slid down the stairs. Robert was asleep, like she had been, and she was stuck with Jonathan.

“Jenny?” he asked again. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just um, Mr Elliot said we had to stop our lessons.”

“What?” he asked, frowning. “Why? I thought you were doing well.”

“So did I,” she said. “But it’s just, he doesn’t have the time for all that right now, and he thinks I don’t either.” Jonathan’s face fell but she tilted his chin upwards. “No use pouting over it.”

“But you loved those lessons.” Emma felt foolish now; literature lessons were the last thing on her mind, but she kept the façade for him.

“Yeah, I did, kid,” she said. “But come on, I’ll get dinner started.”

In the kitchen, Emma stuck two chicken breasts into the oven. Despite having used this technology for some time now, she didn’t know how long she had been cursed for, she was amazed at the advancements of this realm. The chicken could be cooked to perfection in a matter of minutes in the hot box. While the chickens cooked, she set about chopping up cucumbers and tomatoes while Jonathan worked on his homework.

“Hey, look at that,” he remarked. She looked up to see that he was looking out the kitchen window.

“Thought you were meant to be doing homework,” she scolded. His face flushed red as he looked back at her, right up to the tips of his ears. She remembered grabbing his ears when they were kids and calling him “Pegasus”, making them flap like little wings.

“I know but come look at this.” She sighed and walked over to the window. She looked out at the town.

“What am I looking at?” she asked, scanning the dark Storybrooke streets for something out of the ordinary. As far as she was concerned, nothing was new. Same as it was every other day; dull orange streetlights lighting up the street, Aunt Red, now Ruby, pulling her coat around her as she hurried down the street.

“The clock tower,” he pointed out. “They must have fixed it. It never moved before now, remember?”

Emma looked at the clock tower, right above the library. For as long as she could remember it had read 8:15. And there, it said 8:30.

Emma smiled to herself. Maybe now that she was awake, things were changing. The Evil Queen’s reign was drawing to a close.

                                                                                                *****

_Emma had never seen so many people in the ballroom before. There had been balls for the Winter and Summer solstices, for her birthdays, her parent’s birthdays, anniversaries and every other occasion she could think of. And every time there had been visitors from friends from near and far and they brought their families, from other noble families and visiting royals, not to mention armies and navies coming too. And yet there had always been plenty of room left over in the vast ballroom, giving her room to breathe._

_Today the ballroom was packed so tightly she felt like she was suffocating. All she could see no matter which way she looked was people towering over her, as far as her eyes can see. The way they move around her makes her dizzy; they sway their hips, shuffle through the floor in clumps of three or four, bumping into her, pushing her this way and that. Some stop to pat her head, complimenting her on how grown up she is, how pretty her dress is, asking how old she is or how her lessons are going. She wonders if she has ever met these people before._

_“Emma!” her father called. He has no need to awkwardly shoving and pushing and squeezing his way through the crowds. Even the most snobbish of Kings would know to step aside for their host, the King of Misthaven. Though he does not walk like a King; Emma sees the other men with golden crowns on their grey hair and they take their time as they mill around the ballroom, nodding occasionally for no apparent reason and keeping their hands too close to their bodies, as if they are afraid Emma or one of her friends would steal the rings from their fingers. Roland is the son of the most famous thief in the land after all, and Merida moves like a whip, so perhaps their fears are not so farfetched. On the other hand, her father almost skips through the ballroom, clapping friends on the backs or shoulders and grinning broadly at them. He swings his arms as he moves, dancing to a beat only he can hear._

_When he reached his daughter, he knelts to her level, smiling at her._

_“Emma we’re been looking for you,” he told her, not a trace of anger in his voice. She remembers Merida telling her how angry her father can get, saying it is “just how fathers act” but she believes her friend cannot be more wrong. Her father probably can’t get angry, certainly not with her. Instead he smiles fondly at her and smooths her pink skirts._

_“Sorry Papa,” she said, wrinkling her small nose. “I wanted to talk to Merida, but I couldn’t find her.”_

_“It’s okay, Princess.” He offered her his hand and she took it. His hand dwarfed hers, but it makes her feel safe. “But come on. We don’t want to keep your mother waiting-or your little brother.”_

_“He might start crying again,” she joked. As the King and Princess walked hand in hand to the top of the ballroom, where her mother held her new brother as she stood under a stained-glass window that painted the room a thousand unusual colours, the crowds parted for them, bowing deeply, even the Kings who barely moved when she first saw them._

_“Thank you all for coming,” Snow White addressed the crowd. “The birth of our son is truly a joyful and wonderful occasion not just for our family, but for our Kingdom. My husband and I have gained a son, and Princess Emma has gained a brother, but you have all gained a Prince, and a friend.”_

_“When we debated what to name this child, there were many to choose from,” David continued. “Between the many friends we have made both in this kingdom and from our various allies, to the heroes from legend and folktale that inspire us. But there is one man we saw fit to honour with naming our son. And that is my own father. He may not have been the strongest man I ever knew, but he was kind. And brave. And he fought for my mother and I with every bone in his body, and that is what I want for my son. To hold his family close to his heart.”_

_“People of Misthaven, we introduce to you our son, Prince Robert.”_

_The thunderous applause and roaring cheers almost knocked Emma off her feet. The sound filled her ears and attacked her brain and she wished to cover her ears and block it all out, though it is not lady like. Nevertheless, she can’t help squirming and hopes that the crowds are too distracted celebrating the new Prince to pay attention to her._

_Next thing Emma knew she was pulled up in the air before being rested comfortably on her father’s hips, which happens to be one of her favourite places to be, and she is more than glad to see that at eight years old she is not yet too hold to be held. Her father moved over to his wife and lifted one hand from Emma to stroke her little brother’s face._

_“What do you think, Emma?” Snow asked her. Her smile was so radiant, Emma couldn’t help but think ‘the fairest of them all’. “Does he look like a Robert?”_

_Emma looked over into the small bundle in her mother’s arms. Truth be told she didn’t think he looked like an anything, other than a piglet, but she knew that was rude to say, even more so when it is the royal prince. But she took a longer look at him as he shifted and yawned in their mother’s arms and his eyes opened lazily. Perhaps she could see the little prince, her brother, potential partner in crime, in there._

_“Mama, can I call him Bobby?” she asked, and her mother chuckled._

_“I think Bobby is a wonderful nickname for him,” she said._

                *****

It seemed that ever since she woke up, her luck had started changing. For one, Jonathan had asked her why she was getting ready for work when her shift didn’t start until twelve, and he was proven right by the schedule written in pen and taped to her fridge, saying “SATURDAY: Start at 12”. For one thing that meant that she could catch up on the sleep she needed after the restless night she had; her real memories spent all night rolling around her head and she kept waking up from terrible dreams of when the curse first hit. She had sat up for at least an hour just replaying her memories over and over again.

Then the crying had come. Crying for Robert, who was right next to her, but was still so far away from her in every way that mattered. Crying for her parents, who she didn’t even remember seeing. She missed her father’s comforting touch and her mother’s warm smile. They used to be able to ground her no matter how far she drifted away. Crying for Killian, whose comforting words and whispered praises would mean everything to her right then. And she cried for her son, longing for his giggles and riddles and games.

After she caught up on her sleep, she saw she still had another two hours until she was due to start work, meaning she could get down to business.

She quickly pulled on a sweater and jeans, tucked her pebble into her jeans and told her brother she had to run some errands.

Then she was speeding through the streets as quickly as her legs would carry her. The town passed her in a blur, she dodged her neighbours without even giving them a passing glance or even listening to see if they were saying hello. There would be plenty of time for hello once the curse was broken.

She soon came skidding to a halt, tripping over herself and nearly toppling onto the pavement. She heard her mother’s voice in her head, sighing fondly at her, could almost feel her picking her up and launching into a lecture about how a lady should be poised and graceful. It was a bittersweet moment for her.

She picked herself up and looked at the house before her. It was small, red brick with a brown front door and boxes with pink flowers in the windows and white lace curtains. Plain, unassuming, she may even say boring.

Which made it the perfect place for him to hide.

Emma grinned at her teacher’s intelligence before strolling up to the front door and rapping on it. She thought the whole way here she would be nervous but now, all she felt was anticipation and excitement and hope building in her. The curse was getting weaker, and with her and Merlin reunited, surely, they’d break it. His knowledge and her magic had always made a strong combination and he had told her many times what an effective team they would make in a battle. And the Queen had no magic here, he had assured her of that. It would be a swift and sure defeat, and she would be reunited with her family once more.

Merlin opened the door, wearing a red woollen jumper and black rimmed reading glasses. Confusion crossed his face when he saw her almost dancing on his doorstep.

“Jenny,” he greeted, opening the door wider. “Come in.” The inside of his cursed home was hardly what you would call exciting, certainly not befitting the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms. Dark green carpet and beige walls with paintings of flowers on them and dull orange lights. “What can I do for you.”

“It’s okay,” she said, spinning to face him. “I get it now.”

“You get what now?” he asked.

“I remember! I remember everything!” When his face didn’t change she sighed. “Look I get it. You had to break me, you had to make me miserable, so I’d remember everything. But I’m awake now!”

“Jenny are you alright?” he asked, coming over to her and placing one hand on her shoulder.

Emma’s heart began to sink when she looked at him. His eyes were clouded, confused. There was a dullness in them, not the tell-tale twinkle she was so used to.  He had to be awake, he simply had to. There was no way the Queen could curse the most powerful person she had ever met. She couldn’t take someone with that much fire and strength and make them a shell of themselves. Could she?

“It’s not Jenny,” she said half-heartedly. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma?” he echoed, but it was confusion, not realisation. “Jenny, why don’t you sit down?”

Emma didn’t even register him as he took her arm and led her to an olive green armchair and sat her down. The material was coarse and rough under her palm. She wanted to cry, she should have been crying, but there was nothing. Nothing but numbness spreading across her whole body, pressing down on her chest, squeezing all the air out of her. She pressed her hands in-between her legs to keep them from shaking.

“Jenny,” Merlin said softly, like she was a frightened animal. “Jenny if this is about the classes-”

“No, it’s not,” she replied.  She pulled herself to her feet, wobbling slightly where she stood. She knew that she should have thought of an excuse, but she couldn’t; she didn’t even have the energy to think of one tiny little lie, and that used to be one of her party tricks. All she wanted to do was drag herself home and bury herself in the pillow until the pounding in her head stopped. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come.”

He grabbed her arm in a bid to stop her from leaving, but it slid right through his grasp as she ghosted towards the front door. Vaguely she could hear him asking her if she needed a ride home, if she was okay, what had happened, who was “Emma”, but it was garbled and distant, like her head had been shoved underwater. The bright sunlight hurt her eyes when she opened the door; everything outside was too bright, too false, only making her head throb more.

She stumbled out of his house and onto the gravel of his footpath. She didn’t even turn back to look at him while he called to her, just kept forcing herself to move until she reached home.

                                                                                                *****

_Emma and Robert’s laughs filled the air surrounding the hills as she chased her little brother through the emerald grass, her brandishing a toy sword while he screamed. She tackled him and sent them both tumbling down a hill, their limbs tangling together, her chin jabbing into his side as they flew down, only just hearing the concerned warnings of their parents._

_They finally rolled to a stop, their hearts beating twice as hard and the world buzzing in their ears. They lay there breathless, a perfect blue sky over them and the soft grass stroking their bare arms and legs. Emma feels like she may throw up after all that exercise, but she is too giddy to care. Her five-year-old brother may have much smaller legs than her, but he can run like their prized steed, but she would chase him throughout the entire realm if it would make him laugh the way he is now. She almost wants to laugh at herself, a girl of thirteen should not be acting so childishly, and yet here she is, almost certainly dirt covering her dress._

_“Emma?” Robert asks, still out of breath._

_“Yes?” she replies, toying with the wooden sword in her hands, pointing it up to the sky._

_“When you’re Queen will everything be different?” She frowns and turns to look at him. Her brother’s normal carefree and monkey like grin has faded and he his chewing his lower lip, twirling a blade of grass around his fingers. She doesn’t know where this has come from; he has never asked about how she will be when she is Queen before, so what makes now different?_

_“Yes,” she answers thoughtfully. “Yes, it will be. I will be all grown up, and I will have to rule over the entire kingdom. I’ll have to send armies and write treaties and fight wars. And all the things Mama usually does.” Robert doesn’t ask another question, but she can tell what he wants to say next; the question is practically crawling out of his mouth. “But you’ll be my right-hand man. The most important person in my court. And I’ll need you to help me with everything.” She reaches out and clasps his small hand. “And everything will be different. We’ll be different people. We’ll be grown-ups. But we’ll still be us, Emma and Bobby.”_

_“Emma and Bobby,” he repeated, linking his fingers in with hers._

*****

She felt like she was wading through mud. Even breathing became a struggle as she tried to make her way back to her house, not home, that place would never be home. Home was her palace in the Enchanted Forest, with her family and friends by her side. Home was sprawling fields and thick forests, perfect for horseback rides. Home was a ship permanently sitting in Misthaven’s port, with candles lit all around the cabin and a think bed covered with blankets. Home was not a shared apartment with her brother who didn’t remember the bond they shared, while the rest of her family and friends were who knew where.

Emma was so distracted by her grief she didn’t even notice herself colliding with another person until it was too late. Their hand wrapped around her wrist instinctively, pulling her down on top of them so she fell face first onto the pavement. The stranger’s body broke most of her fall and she found herself with her face buried in a woollen jumper.

It wasn’t until she picked herself up that she realised who it was. She would know him anywhere; ocean blue eyes, so different now without black kohl around them, reminding her of much more intimate moments, black hair pulled down and almost hiding his eyes and making him look younger, more vulnerable (she knew the thought of him looking “vulnerable” would annoy him beyond all measure), pointed ears she so often teased him about, lovingly calling him an elf and flapping them like they were little wings. Still a head taller than her, skinny arms and legs and a ginger scruff she had scratched and tickled so many times.

“Killian,” she breathed softly, so softly he didn’t seem to hear her. He had the same look in his eyes as Merlin and her brother and everyone in this damn town had, not quite awake, not quite aware. Not aware that his wife was sitting across right beside him, not knowing how much she missed him.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stammered, scurrying away form her and jumping up, brushing himself off. “Are you okay?” He offered her his hand, the same hand that had caressed her jaw and traced down her spine as they kissed passionately in their bed. Emma put her trembling hand in his and let him help her to her feet.

She felt like such a fool. She had always been so gifted with words and able to wind a man round her finger. She remembered leaving Killian himself speechless when they first met, and he had been impressed by her spirit. Yet here she was now, her mouth hanging open and struggling to get even one single sentence out. No wonder he looked so concerned for her.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, much slower this time, as if she was a child.

“Fine,” she said, hearing her own voice shaking with nerves. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have looked where I was going.”

“No, no it’s my fault,” he replied. “I should have been more careful.” He took a small step backwards and immediately Emma saw he was going to leave her. Again.

“I’m Jenny.” She held out her hand and after a moment’s hesitation he shook it, albeit briefly and awkwardly. The curse must have stripped all the bravado from him, leaving this shy and soft boy as a replacement.

“Patrick,” he replied. The corners of his lips twitched up into a small smile and for a moment Emma could see the real him inside. Just make the smile wider and a bit more daring, more brash and lift the cloudiness form his eyes and she would have her pirate captain back.

Instead he let go of her hand and slipped his own hand back into his pocket. He ducked his head slightly and his eyes became hidden behind his hair. He shifted from one foot to the other like an agitated child. Clearly, he wanted to leave her.

“I’ll see you around then,” she croaked. He nodded hurriedly.

“I suppose so, yes,” he said before dodging around her and starting to dash back to…. Wherever he was going.

                                                                                                                *****

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure where this new bout of confidence had come from, but he found himself striding into the Town Hall like it was his own home, even going as far as ignoring the receptionist who insisted the Mayor was too busy for him. He hoped to retain this confidence for a while.

When he burst into the Mayor’s office she regarded him with a raise of her eyebrow and a cool look. Heaving a sigh, she set her pen down and invited him to take a seat.

“Mr Clarke,” she greeted in a tired voice. “I have an awful lot to do today so please, keep your complaints to a minimum.”

“I’m sorry Madam Mayor,” he began. “But I feel I need to begin teaching Jenny Bird again.” The Mayor rolled her eyes ever so slightly and leaned back in her chair. It was as if Clarke had offered her a new game, and one she was too busy to play. “Now Madam Mayor I know you’re opposed to it, but she needs this.”

“We have been over this, Mr Clarke,” she sighed. “Miss Bird may well think that she needs to be taught how to read, but what she needs is a reality check. She can’t just waltz off and try to fulfil a dead dream of going to college.”

“A dead dream?” he echoed.

“Oh, come now, Mr Clarke,” she laughed. “You and I both know you were humouring her with that idea of going away to college. I mean what college would accept her?”

“She’s a clever girl, Madam Mayor,” he insisted. “Just very troubled. And she’s stretched enough as it is and it’s taking its toll on the poor girl.”

“All the more reason to let her be. Keep one thing off her plate.”

“Madam Mayor, she came to my house today. I thought she’d be begging for her lessons back, but this was different. She was talking all kinds of nonsense.”

“Well why you want to keep tutoring a girl like that is beyond me,” she huffed, picking up her pen. “I suggest you leave her where she is.”

“She was going on about how she was awake now, and how she realised why I did it.” The Mayor dropped her pen at that. It seemed finally, he had her full attention. “And she was so upset when she saw I had no idea what she was talking about. You should have seen her Miss Mills she was crushed.”

“You said she said she was awake?” she asked slowly, her fingers curling and uncurling. She seemed to get more and more tense by the second, like she would soon become too tight and snap.

“Yes,” he said. “She wasn’t making any sense.”

The Mayor took in a sharp breath and gave a slow nod.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” she said. “I understand Miss Bird’s mental state may be more delicate than we first thought. A girl who has suffered so much is bound to come undone.”

“And you see why she needs those lessons?” he asked, leaning forward. “They grounded her, Miss Mills. Gave her something to hold on to. Please let me teach her again.”

“I’ll consider it,” she smiled. “But I want to keep an eye on her first. Just to make sure she’s all right.”

Clarke smiled triumphantly. It wasn’t a total victory, but you could never have one of those with the Mayor. She was made of iron and had a virtually inflexible will. But it seemed he had bent her ever so slightly, and that was an achievement, for both him and Jenny. Hopefully, he would be able to help put the poor girl back on track.

“Thank you, Madam Mayor,” he said. She gave him a warm smile, which he counted as another achievement, and saw him to the door.

                                                                                                *****

_The classroom was at the top of the north tower, as per Merlin’s request. He said that it would let in the perfect amount of sunlight and give the perfect view of the stars, should they need it. It was very small, and the two wooden desks, blackboard and trunks Merlin had placed around made it even smaller, but it wasn’t restricting. In fact, Emma had always thought this was one of the places she could be truly free. Merlin had brought many magical artefacts with him, an empty globe, a huge leather-bound book she was forbidden to touch, a hand mirror, all of which he promised they would use in future lessons._

_Today she was standing at her desk with Merlin, while a withered and dead rose lay limp on the wood. She was shaking from how hard she was concentrating; the blue vein on her forehead almost ready to burst. Merlin’s hand came and covered her own._

_“You’re pushing too hard,” he said softly. “Just let it come naturally.”_

_“I’m trying,” she groaned. “It won’t come naturally.” Her tutor gave a laugh at her insistence._

_“It seems your magic is just as stubborn as you are, Miss Emma,” he chuckled. He came behind her and grasped her hand in his. “It doesn’t want you to force it. It wants to work with you, not for you.”_

_“How can it work for me?” she asked. “It’s my magic.”_

_“Yes, and it is a part of you, but you’re a part of it. If you want your magic to do what you want it to, let it come naturally. Stop pushing it.” Emma screwed up her face and tried to let the magic come, but it stayed put. She could feel it, the warmth of her magic pooling inside her belly, but nothing came from her hand. “You’re concentrating too hard.”_

_“You keep telling me to concentrate!” she replied, almost whining. Merlin knelt and turned her to face him._

_“Big deep breath, Princess.” She obeyed. “And let it out.” She breathed out slowly, counting to ten as he had taught her to do before. “Let’s do this again yeah?”_

_“Yeah.” Emma turned back to the rose, held her hand over it and closed her eyes. “Work with it,” she muttered. For a few seconds nothing happened, then she felt her arm beginning to tingle. She wanted to squirm and giggle at the sensation, but she forced herself to stand still and not move a muscle. The sensation trickled down her arm and flooded her hand, and she could finally breathe._

_“Open your eyes,” Merlin ordered. She saw a perfect, fully bloomed pink rose sitting on the desk._

_“I did it!” she exclaimed, jumping for joy. “I did it, I did it!”_

_“Indeed, you did,” he said, lifting the rose and placing it behind her ear. “Before you know it you’ll be doing all sorts of healing magic, just like this. The Evil Queen won’t be able to stop you.”_

_Emma froze when he reminded her of the Evil Queen. As far as she knew she was a long-forgotten nightmare after her parents had defeated her, but something told her differently. That something was the way her tutor spoke about her and the curse._

_“The Queen can’t hurt us anymore, can she?” she asked. “She’s gone, forever.”_

_“Never say forever, Emma,” Merlin said as he lifted a book from his trunk. “Your parents might have defeated her before, but she could very well return.” Emma’s face fell, the victory from her magic completely forgotten. “But I’m not afraid of her. Or her curse.”_

_“Why not?” Emma asked._

_“Because by the time she casts it, you’ll be more than ready for her.”_

                                                *****

For the second time, Emma found herself unable to sleep. But it wasn’t grief or sadness or horrible memories this time; she sat up for while feeling defeated. She wondered if she should just submit and accept defeat, live out her seemingly dull life with her brother, avoid Killian and her parents and accept it. Her life could have been worse, surely? Maybe lying down and accepting her fate was better, and safer, than trying to fight back.

“No!” she exclaimed, sitting up in her bed. Her heart had suddenly doubled in speed, a metallic bitter taste filled her mouth and her hands were shaking no matter how tightly she wound them into her covers. She panted heavily as though she had been sprinting.

The covers suddenly felt too tight, too restricted and she threw them off and stumbled from the bed, leaning on the wall to steady herself. The cold floor contacted her hot skin, the contrast jolting through her body.

“No,” she whispered, weaker this time. She was ashamed damn it, ashamed that for one minute she pondered giving up on her own family, on her people, the people she swore to serve and protect. Her own parents fought the Evil Queen and never once considered giving up and fleeing, what kind of Princess would she be if she walked away? What kind of daughter would be content leaving her parents to suffer? “She’s not winning this time.”

Emma flipped on the lamp on her desk and opened a notebook, flipping through pages of notes and grocery lists and bill payments until she found a blank page. In blue pen she hastily scribbled down all the curse counterparts she knew of and their real selves. Then she scribbled down what she already knew; Regina had control over everything, even Merlin, but the curse was weakening. Time was passing again.

Since she was a little girl she had heard that she was destined to be the Saviour and to break the curse. And she had always thought that she would never have to be since the Queen had been banished and they had been spared the curse. And in a way she was relieved; she never wanted to be the Saviour. The idea of being Queen was enough to scare her but having to save her people from a terrible curse was another responsibility and one she had never felt prepared for. As the days went by and inched closer to her son’s birthday they weight of her destiny had pressed down on her, harder and harder, until it wasn’t uncommon for Killian or her parents to find her sobbing on the floor of her chambers.

Destiny was unavoidable, apparently. And she was the Saviour, whether she liked it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please leave a comment in order to feed my desperate ego.  
> Next chapter is a tale as old as time where Emma tries to help two true loves be reunited in Storybrooke.


	3. Chapter 3

_At first, Red wasn’t even sure if the figure in the woods was even human. It dragged its left foot behind it, walked hunched over, covered by its cloak and its face was grey. It moved slowly along the forest floor, but not with caution or carelessness. It was as if the energy had been drained out of it and it was struggling to pull itself forward._

_Red pressed her body to the tree she hid behind, her thick red cloak serving as a soft barrier between her and the bark that would otherwise prick and poke at her skin. She kept watching whatever was making its way through her woods with a combination of caution and interest. She knew these woods well, as did Snow, but newcomers were rare. People feared the dense thick woods and winding paths of the forest; even the bravest and boldest of knights usually thought twice before setting foot in her territory, only to run screaming moments later, deeming it unfit for anyone but a madman. The people especially the beast that was said to stalk through it, taking the form of a beautiful maiden only to lure men in and rip them limb from limb._

_The knowledge of her fearsome reputation was a stab in the gut for Red. She knew where it came from, knew that the family of her former love Peter had told everyone what she was, a siren on the land._

_The newcomer stumbled and fell to the ground. That did not strike Red as particularly odd, the roots of the trees and fallen logs often caused people to trip, especially on a night such as this. What did strike her was that it did not move to get back up, but instead curled up on the floor, hugging its legs to its chest. Then Red heard muffled sobs coming from it; it choked and coughed and heaved for air before continuing to cry even more. She could hear the desperation and fear laced into every sound that came from it._

_Before she even knew what she was doing she ran over to where it la and knelt by its side. Unsure of how to respond, she touched its shoulder, not knowing if she wanted a response or not._

_“Are you all right?” she asked. It moved suddenly, scrambling away from her and bolting upright, causing the tattered and torn hood of its cloak to fall from its face._

_It was human. It was a woman, and Red swore on every god and goddess she knew of it was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, even with dirt and bloody scratches covering her face. Soft brown hair was falling out of its pins and was tangled and wild. Her eyes were like a summer sky, Red felt like she could gaze at them forever. She was small, a heart shaped face and a petite frame that made her look so innocent, too innocent to have such terror in her eyes and to look so exhausted._

_“Are you all right?” she asked again, reaching out to her, only to have her flinch back in fear. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you I promise.” Red’s eyes moved from her face to her legs; one ankle sat in an odd shape and she saw spots of red seeping through white stockings. “You’re hurt.” She moved to inspect the damage and she scrambled back even further, shaking her head, making her hair even more wild. Red thought briefly she looked like she belonged in these woods, like she was some wild witch she had heard about, in legends from Dun Broch. “You can trust me. My name is Red.”_

_She gave no response, but moved closer to her, allowing her to inspect the damage on her leg._

_“It looks broken,” she said sternly. She wanted to make a comment about her heeled shoes but decided it was best to leave it. “I can get you someplace where people can help. Would you like that?”_

_“W-where?” she asked, her voice hoarse._

_“In Queen Snow and King David’s castle,” Red replied. “They have someone there; an amazing physician and he can help with that.” The woman avoided Red’s eyes entirely, pulling herself into a ball and holding on tightly. “Hey, I promise you can trust me. And I have never broken a promise in my life. And it will be so much better than taking your chances out here.”_

_“Promise we’re going to the King and Queen?” she asked._

_“Promise.” She kept looking unsure, her eyes closed, and her delicate face screwed up in concentration, until she gave a she sighed and nodded. She allowed Red to help her to her feet and gratefully took Red’s support. “Do you have a name?”_

_“Belle,” she answered._

                                                                                                                *****

“Good morning, Paige,” Ruby greeted as she entered the library. The place was dark except for the natural light coming in through the windows. Ruby wondered if the Mayor had cut the power to the library, or if Paige just preferred the darkness. It gave the place a more otherworldly feel, like she had stepped into a place from one of her books.

“Ruby!” Paige greeted, a bright smile illuminating her face. She set the pile of books she had on the floor and rushed over to meet her. “What brings you here?”

 _I wanted to see you_ was the correct answer.

“I finished the book,” she said instead, handing her over the hardbacked book with yellowing pages she had borrowed just over a week before.

“You certainly got through that one quickly,” she remarked as she took it out of her hands and placed it on the circulation desk.

“Well I just couldn’t put it down,” she said. Ruby bounced after her as Paige returned to the shelves. “I don’t suppose you have any new places for me to go?”

Paige cocked her head, smiling. Ruby could practically see the little gears inside her brain shifting and clicking. Paige took a few steps along the rows and lifted a thin red covered book off the shelf.

“Try this one,” she said, handing it to her. The cover had an illustration of a beautiful young woman in a ballgown, not looking unlike Paige herself, dancing with something Ruby could only describe as a cross between a lion and a rhino. The title was written in silver, large, loop writing that made the book look hundreds of years old.

“Beauty and the Beast?” she said. “Like the Disney movie with the pretty song?”

“It’s an older version of the story,” Paige explained. “It’s darker and scarier and has different themes and there’s no huge musical numbers but it’s good. Has the same happy ending.”

Ruby rubbed the front of the book, fingers gliding over the letters.

“I do love happy endings,” she said. Paige tucked her hair behind her ears as she smiled.

“Paige, my darling,” a voice called from the door, thin and watery, but still arrogant and demanding. “Come it’s time to go.” Paige’s husband Adam stood in the doorway, his frame blocking out the light from the door.

“Yes of course, just let me check out this book for Ruby,” she said, running to the desk. Ruby followed her, casting a glance at Adam. She couldn’t help noticing how the grip he had on his cane tightened as Belle worked.

“Well don’t take too long my love, we do have matters to attend to,” he said, eyeing the library with a disgusted sneer on his face. “And I for one would not want to remain here for much longer.” He looked over at Ruby. “Dust allergies, you see.”

“Yes,” she muttered. Paige handed the book to her and hurriedly lifted her coat and bag from the rack.

“I hope you enjoy it Ruby,” she said as she linked arms with Adam.

“You know it’s funny Miss Lucas, I never saw you as the bookworm type,” he commented. “Yet I see you in this library almost every week with a new book to get.”

“We all need hobbies Mr Gold,” she replied. “You must do something other than occupy that pawn shop of yours.”

“I keep busy,” he said. He half dragged Paige into the street and Ruby was left in the library, holding onto the book as the door shut.

Of all the girls in town she could have chosen to fall for, she had to get the married one.

                                                                                                ******

_Taking most of Belle’s weight as they made their way to the castle was no easy task. Belle had insisted she could walk on many occasions during their trek, but the tears in her eyes and limp in her walk proved otherwise. Red knew there was a way she could get her to the castle in less time with far less hassle, but she wouldn’t. Belle wasn’t ready to see that side of her. Or, she wasn’t ready to show Belle that side of her._

_Red knocked on the huge oak doors of the castle, her back beginning to ache under Belle’s weight and the cold beginning to penetrate her cloak and bite at her skin. Thankfully they were not waiting for long; the guards immediately opened the door and knew better than to stall the Queen’s best friend. The foyer of the castle was quite dark, save for the candles lit along the walls._

_“Inform the Queen Lady Red has come to visit her,” he ordered another, younger man, who took off without hesitation._

_“You’re close with the Queen then?” Belle asked, sighing gratefully when Red eased her into a chair._

_“Quite close,” she teased. She was about to try to inspect the injury but was interrupted by her goddaughter._

_“Aunt Red!” Emma exclaimed as she came into the foyer, closing the book she had been reading and tossing it onto the floor. She ran to Red and embraced her tightly, smiling brightly and lighting up the room. “You’re here!”_

_“I am, Miss Emma,” she giggled, taking a look at her. At nineteen, Emma had truly blossomed before her eyes. “And you get more beautiful every time I see you. I suspect you’re breaking every heart in the land, man or maiden.”_

_“If only I had known you were coming!” she said. “I wouldn’t have put Henry down, I know you love seeing him.”_

_“I also love seeing you,” she said before steeling herself. “But I’m afraid I’m not here on a social call.” It was then Emma noticed Belle huddled in the chair and she turned back to Red. “I found her in the woods,” she said in a low voice. “And I think she may be in danger.”_

_“So, you took her here?” she asked. “Mother does take in strays.”_

_As if Emma had conjured her mother herself, Snow appeared in the foyer, smiling at her old friend._

_“Red,” she greeted, hugging her tightly. “It has been too long.”_

_“I know, Snow,” she said. “But as I told Emma, I’m not here on a social call.” Red gestured to Belle. Snow immediately left her friend’s side and crouched near her. “I found her in the woods. She’s hurt, and I thought Doc could help her.”_

_“And he will. David?” Prince Charming ran in immediately. “Go get Doc, tell him we have an injured guest.” She then turned back to Belle, her voice turning softer, from Queen to friend in an instant. “Can you walk?”_

_Belle gave a quick nod._

_“She leaned on me the whole way here,” Red said. “And I don’t mind helping her again.”_

_“Good. We’ll set her up in a guest room on the first floor. And we’ll get Doc to take a look at that ankle.” Snow dipped her head to try to look Belle in the eye. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll be all patched up soon.”_

_Red, Emma and Snow were soon gathered around Belle’s bed whilst Doc tended to her. He had determined her ankle was broken, and she was lucky Red found her when she did. He had put a cast on it, given her something to help with the swelling and advised that she stay in bed for at least a week, and even then use a cane until her leg healed properly._

_“What on earth were you doing to have caused such an injury?” he asked. Belle shook her head as an answer. “I see. Well as I said, if Red hadn’t found you and brought you here it could have been much, much worse. I advise you stay at the castle until you’re fully recovered.”_

_“Thank you,” Belle said weakly._

_“Yes, thank you so much, Doc,” Snow said. Doc bowed to her before leaving, no doubt going to bed. From the look of her, all Belle wanted to do was sleep, but Red had to get some answers first._

_“Belle,” she asked softly, perching on the edge of the bed. “What happened to you? How did you end up in the woods?”_

_Belle looked at her hands, twisting her fingers around each other, as her lower lip began to tremble. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill over. Red rubbed her back softly as she took a deep breath in._

_“I worked as a servant, a slave, in a castle and the man, my master he….” Her breathing quickened, tears began running down her cheeks as she recounted the tale. “He was a cruel man, vicious and horrible. I couldn’t take being in that place another minute.”_

_“You say you were a slave?” Snow asked gravely._

_“I may as well have been one,” she replied bitterly. “I slept in a dungeon, I could never see my family again, I could never set foot outside unless he permitted it.”_

_“Belle who is this man?” Emma asked. “One of Mother’s first acts as Queen was outlawing slavery. Surely this man can and must be brought to justice.”_

_“She’s right,” Snow said, throwing her daughter a proud smile. “Belle whoever this man is he will be locked in our dungeons for his crimes, and his conditions will be worse than what he subjected you to.”_

_“You can do that?” she asked. “Make him pay for what he did to me?”_

_“We can,” Snow confirmed. “Now what is this man’s name?”_

_“His name,” Belle said, her voice shaking. She gripped the bedsheets tightly, her arms shook. “His name is Rumpelstiltskin.”_

_The Queen and Princess bowed their heads, both sighing deeply._

_“Belle I am sorry,” Snow said. “But we have an arrangement with him, made just before Emma’s birth. We cannot touch him. Our law doesn’t apply to him.” Expressionless, Belle nodded. Red’s heart ached for her; she had lost so much and now there was her only chance of having a small piece of justice, gone forever._

_“But he can’t touch us,” Emma said. “That is part of the deal. We leave each other alone. So as long as you’re with us he can’t harm you.”_

_“I can’t stay,” she whispered. “I mean I can’t invade your home.”_

_“You’re our guest, Belle,” Snow said. “And our family always helps people. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”_

_Belle smiled gratefully. She started blinking heavily, fighting the descending exhaustion. Snow smiled, and Emma went to pull the curtains closed._

_“Let’s leave her to rest,” Snow murmured, tapping Red’s shoulder. Red got up and left with her friend and goddaughter but stopped in the doorway to take another look at Belle. She had fallen asleep, murmuring and shifting slightly but not stirring. Red smiled sadly at her._

_“Picking up strays,” she whispered. “It’s what Snow does. Good night, Belle.”_

                                                                                                *****

Emma hadn’t planned to try to get her Aunt Red reunited with Belle first. In fact, she first thought that her plan was going to be to try to wake Merlin or to find out what happened to her parents. But sometimes, things changed. Sometimes you saw your cursed godmother sombrely walking down the street, clutching a book to her chest, her expression sorrowful. Emma could practically see the shattered and broken heart in her chest. Aunt Red had always been the one to wear her heart on her sleeve after all.

So, she decided to dedicate her day to fixing everything and getting Red and Belle back together. Her first order of business would be to find out where, and who, Belle was in this realm. She left her brother at home, saying she had to run some errands. Thankfully, it was her day off, so she could have time to work.

Her hunch led her to the library, given that Ruby had been carrying books like they were glass. The library in her palace had always been a special place for Belle and Red.

The Storybrooke library was far from the one back home. It sat underneath the clock tower, dull metal shelves sitting around the room on a dirty white tiled floor. While the lights were on, they were just a dull orange, so the light from the windows lit most of the room. Unlike the royal library, or the library she had visited in town, this was too small, the ceiling low and walls closing in on her. Emma scanned the room for someone.

“Hello?” she called out tentatively. She heard someone coming from the back of the shop, the sound of cluttering.

Belle stepped into the light. Or, it should have been Belle. Emma couldn’t see the girl Red had brought home and had lived with them so long she was practically family. The last time she had properly seen her as at her wedding. She had always radiated light but as the weeks went by and the Dark One began to lose his grip on her she looked free, she smiled widely, and her eyes sparkled, she hummed as she walked and giggled at her own inside jokes. This woman was far from that. She looked so subdued, almost like she had looked when she first met Emma. Everyone in town had a dazed look about them but she looked broken.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m Jenny,” Emma greeted, not entirely sure of what else to say.

“Paige,” she replied, smiling slightly. “Um are you looking for something in particular?”

“No,” she said softly. “Just browsing.”

“Well, feel free to ask me if you have any questions.” With that, Paige went back to her work and Emma roamed the shelves.

She stopped at a section labelled “fairytales”. All relatively thin hardbacked books, titles written in cursive and in silver or gold. Books called _“Snow White and The Seven Dwarves”, “Peter Pan”, “Cinderella”_ and _“Little Red Riding Hood”_. Emma had to shake her head. Was her family just a story in this realm? Where was she in this tale?

Her hand came to rest on an empty space in-between _Hansel and Gretel_ and _The Snow Queen_.

“Ah, that one has already been lent out, just yesterday I’m afraid,” Paige said.

“Really? Who to?” she asked. Paige frowned in confusion. “Just I don’t see a lot of people coming in here.”

“That girl who works in the diner, Ruby,” she answered. Emma smiled. Red and Belle already knew each other in this realm. It was a start. “You know her?”

“Yeah I work there too. And her grandma is a friend. I just never pegged her as the bookworm type,” Emma explained. “So, she comes here a lot?”

“Almost every week,” Paige said, a secret smile curling onto her lips. “She comes in with new books she’s finished and asks for new ones.”

Emma smiled softly at the thought of Red coming here every day. It seemed the curse wasn’t strong enough to separate her from her True Love. Perhaps her mother was right, True Love can break any curse.

 _Then what about mine?_ She thought briefly, sadness cutting through her. Emma shook her head, banishing such thoughts from her mind. She had bigger things to think about than her own problems. For instance, how she was going to get Belle and Red back together.

“Do you like her?” she asked suddenly, cursing herself the moment she said it. Subtlety was needed for this operation and so far she was not doing well with it. Paige frowned, curiosity and confusion across her face. And something else, something that sparked hope in Emma’s chest.

“I like her, yes,” she said carefully. “She’s kind and she can make me laugh.” She took a deep breath and toyed with the edge of her skirt. “And she sometimes brings me things from the diner when she visits. Just to make sure I don’t go hungry or lonely in here.”

“She sounds great,” Emma remarked casually.

“She is.”

Before either her or Paige could say anything else, the door to the library swung open. Emma could have thrown up at the sight of the man who entered. She was so used to seeing Rumpelstiltskin as the Dark One, with golden skin and the eyes of an animal and his chilling laugh. Here he just looked like a man at first glance, a thin old man leaning on a cane for support. But when she managed to look him in the eyes she could see the menacing gleam that she had seen in him back home.

“My darling,” he said. Emma noticed a complete change in Paige, her hands dropped to her side, the soft smile faded completely, her mouth being set in a hard line, and her shoulders drooped. If the curse took some of Belle away, this was her completely eroded. “Come, it’s time to go.”

“Yes, of course, just allow me to finish here,” she muttered. Rumpelstiltskin, or whatever name he went by in this realm, sighed loudly, his eyes drilling holes into Emma. “Um, is there anything you need checked out?”

“Yeah.” Emma tore her eyes away from the Dark One and lifted Snow White off the shelf. “Just this please.”

Belle checked it out at the speed of lightning, making small glances at her apparent husband every now and then.

“It’s due two weeks from now, but you can check it in before that if you finish it early,” she explained. Before Emma could even thank her she had ran to his side. The Dark One kept eyeing her suspiciously and approached her slightly, still leaving a large enough gap between them.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he said. “Adam Gold.”

“Jenny Bird,” she whispered.

“I hope to see more of you,” he replied smoothly. “Miss Bird.”

                                                                                                                *****

_Red founds Belle in the deepest, darkest part of the library, nestled on a plush chair with her injured leg sitting upon a stool, and a large, red leather-bound book in her hand. She had this look about her while she was reading; even though she was sitting right in front of her, she might as well have been miles away, lost in whatever story world she was reading. The candlelight gave a soft glow to her face and light reflected in her blue eyes. She looked like a work of art and Red feared losing this image._

_“Red,” she greeted, looking up from her book. “What brings you here?”_

_“Sorry Belle I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said sheepishly. “Its just you weren’t in your room and Queen Snow was worried about you. As was I.”_

_“You don’t need to worry about me,” Belle laughed. “I just couldn’t take being cooped up in there any longer. And Princess Emma had told me about the library. I just had to see it for myself.” Red chuckled at her. “It truly is beautiful.”_

_“I guess,” she said. Red had never really set foot in the library before, preferring to run in the forests than sit indoors. It seemed Belle was the opposite. “How are you.”_

_“Doc said I should be back to full strength within a week,” she said. “And I can finally take this cast off and walk normally again.” Red nodded. She was glad Belle’s physical health was on the mend but honestly, she was interested in something else._

_“And…. How are you?” she asked seriously. Belle gripped the edges of her book tightly, pain flashing in her eyes. Red had heard Belle’s screaming during the night; sometimes it took her and the King and Queen to wake her and convince her she was safe. Other things would set her off, doors being slammed too loudly, the sound of people storming up the stairs, even the sight of a rose would sometimes upset her. She had confided in Red that the Dark One had given her a rose while she was in his captive and she couldn’t look at the flower the same way again._

_“I’m…. okay,” she admitted after a long pause. “At least I think I am.” Instinctively Red reached out and took her hand in hers. Belle gave her a grateful squeeze. “And I owe it to you, Red. If you hadn’t found me that night, god knows where I would be now.”_

_“It was nothing,” Red whispered, and she ducked her head to hide her blush. Belle ran her thumb along the back of her hand. “I’m just glad you’re okay now. And that you’re here.” Belle hesitated for a moment but touched her warm hand to Red’s cheek._

_“I’m glad I’m here too,” she said._

_Red had always been known for her boldness, her confidence, her need to make the first move in any relationship, and this was no exception. She took a few moments to prepare herself before moving in and pressing her lips to Belle’s._

_Belle melted into Red’s lips almost immediately. Her lips were warm and soft and tasted like tea, her hand came around and grabbed Red’s shoulder for balance as she opened her mouth to deepen their kiss. Red let out a small giggle against Belle’s lips as the rest of the world melted away. When Belle pulled away from her, she felt it was far too soon._

_“Was that wrong?” she whispered._

_“Not in the slightest,” Belle smiled, resting her forehead against Red’s. “I just wish you’d done that sooner.”_

                                                                                *****

Emma felt like hitting her head off the wall. Not only were Red and Belle separated but Belle was back in the Dark One’s clutches. He truly was a beast; she knew he was behind this. He was behind practically everything, and he would use this chance to force Belle back to him. She knew that he could never take no for an answer.

Emma watched Ruby closely whenever she could the next day at work; on every spare moment she was fondling the book she had gotten from the library. She wasn’t even reading it, just running her fingers over the cover, taking exceptional care with the fair maiden on the front.

“What’s that?” Emma asked when the diner was mostly empty; just a few regulars sat at tables, the air was filled with the quiet chatter and hum of the machinery behind them. Ruby all but threw the book under the counter.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just a book. It’s nothing.”

“You didn’t react like it was nothing,” Emma teased. Ruby rolled her eyes but otherwise didn’t respond. “Is it from a special someone?”

“Why do you care?” she asked, but there was nothing behind the words. Even so, Emma couldn’t help flinching. She remembered how she and Red would sit in the garden or holed up in her bedroom, sharing almost every detail; Red would talk into the small hours about Belle and Emma would almost gush over Killian. They would discuss the unpleasant parts of their lives; Red would talk about her curse and Emma would confide in her about her fears of becoming Queen. All that was a lifetime ago now.

She must have looked upset, because Ruby sighed and showed her the cover.

“I got it from the library,” she confessed. “From that girl Paige who works there.” Emma raised her eyebrows.

“And you like Paige?” she asked.

“No!” Ruby’s face-rather appropriately-turned red. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Well because I never pegged you as the book type. And according to Paige herself, you’re in there almost every week.”

 “That’s insane, I don’t like Paige.” When Emma raised an eyebrow, as expertly as her husband had done on many occasions, she sighed and admitted defeat. “Well…. maybe. A little, I guess.”

“Then why don’t you talk to her? Ask her out?” Emma asked.

“There is the small detail of her husband, Jenny,” Ruby responded tiredly. “I don’t mess with married women. Or men.”

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” she said. “Couldn’t you just be together as friends? Go to movies or have coffee or do whatever people who actually have free time do?” Ruby paused and considered Emma’s option, while Emma’s nerves went haywire. “Wouldn’t being with her as friends be better than never being with her at all?” Slowly, Ruby began to smile.

“Maybe you’re right, Bird,” she said. “I’ll give it a shot.”

While Ruby turned away, Emma pumped her fists. She was way better at this Saviour thing than she thought she’d be.

                                                                                                *****

_If there was a heaven, Ruby imagined this was it. She and Belle lay on top of the bed in her chambers, Belle’s small form nestled into her, her hair tickling Red’s nose. The curtains were shut, and the thick velvet of Red’s cloak gave them an even softer bed to lie on. It was like lying on a cloud. She gave Belle’s cheek soft kisses, but the rise and fall of Belle’s chest and her rhythmic breathing almost lulled her to sleep to._

_Belle’s hand moved to Red’s shoulder and brushed her cloak away from her skin._

_“No!” Red gasped, jolting away from her and pulling the cloak tightly around her shoulders, knowing the full moon sat outside waiting for her. Snow had told her again and again she needed to tell Belle about who she really was, and she would. She just had to find the right time to tell her._

_Belle’s hand dropped to the mattress, her mouth hung open, but no sound came out. When Red saw her shoulders tense, saw her face begin to crumple slightly, she cursed herself._

_“Belle,” she whispered, stroking her cheek. “It’s okay, I’m the problem here.”_

_“What is it?” Belle asked in a small voice. Her hand tentatively reached out and grasped her cloak. “Why do you always wear this?”_

_Red closed her eyes, her fingers dug into the covers beneath her. She had spent the better part of a few years running form her wolf side, to embracing it, to using it to fight and protect those she loved with it. She was proud of it. And ashamed at the same time._

_“Belle, I’m afraid,” she confessed. “If I tell you, you might never want to see me again.”_

_“Nonsense,” Belle insisted. “Utter nonsense, nothing could stop me from loving you.” Red felt Belle’s warm hands on either side of her face, willing the truth out of her. “Red, tell me.”_

_Without speaking, Red stood, took Belle’s hand and led her silently to the library. Belle didn’t ask questions, instead squeezed Red’s hand lovingly, gently all the way down. Red led her along the shelves until she came to one marked “beasts from legend”. She took out a book she had read so many times when Snow first reclaimed her palace and opened it in the middle._

_“A werewolf?” Belle asked, confused. “Red, what is this?”_

_“That,” Red began shakily. “Is me. I’m a wolf.” Belle took in a sharp breath. “And the cloak stops me from turning. And I wanted to tell you, Snow told me I should tell you, but I was scared. So many people are afraid of me. Afraid of the beast.”_

_“This is it?” she asked._

_“What?” Red replied in confusion as she wiped her tears._

_“This is why you think I wouldn’t want to be with you?” Belle asked. Ruby nodded, but before she could even explain herself, Belle was kissing her. The magical kind of kiss that made her feel as though nothing even existed any more._

_“You’re no beast,” she whispered. “Trust me, I know what a beast feels like.”_

                                        *****

“Did you finish the book already?” Paige chuckled when Ruby entered. Ruby shook her head, her fingers toying with the chain of her belt. Her mouth ran dry, her heart picked up speed, legs were shaking.

“This is more of a personal call,” she confessed, stammering a little. She hated herself for this, she had never been nervous before, she did not get nervous. Except, it seemed, for pretty brunettes in lace dresses. “I was just wondering if maybe when you’re not working, we could go out. Like see a movie or grab lunch or whatever you want to do.” She hadn’t even finished the sentence before Paige’s face turned outright fearful. She immediately looked to the window. Ruby quickly tried to set the record straight. “I mean not like romantically. Just friends, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry Ruby,” she said breathlessly. “But I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Ruby felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She must have looked it, because Paige kept on talking.

“It’s not that I don’t like you, of course I do,” she said. “It’s just, well my husband likes me to be home for him and I don’t want to leave him there, he has…. issues. Family issues and I don’t want to go out where he wouldn’t know where I am.”

When the doors opened, Ruby briefly thought of the phrase “speak of the Devil, he appears”. Mr Gold strolled into the library, circling around Ruby, his eyes never leaving her, before slipping his arm around Paige, squeezing her forearm tightly.

“My dear is everything okay?” he asked sweetly. “I’ve never seen you this upset. Certainly not in here.”

“I’m fine, Adam,” she insisted. “Ruby just came by for a chat.”

“Yes,” Ruby agreed in a faint voice. “That’s what happened. I should get back to the diner now.” Paige couldn’t even say goodbye before she had stormed out of the library and onto the street. Ruby would die even more if Paige saw her crying.

                                                                                                *****

Emma found herself walking home with much lighter steps, a small smile appearing on her face. The knowledge that Red and Belle would be spending more time together gave her hope. Hope that the curse would weaken, that Red could be happy again, that Belle would be freed from the Dark One, that she and her family would be reunited, and her subjects would find their lost loved ones. And then she could finally make the Evil Queen pay for what she did.

Emma loved her mother dearly. She didn’t think there was a kinder, softer, more hopeful soul in all the realms. She was such a great leader too; she was fair and kind and introduced new laws and put an end to the Queen’s reign of terror. The kingdom prospered under her rule. That said, she was never sure why here mother had been so foolish and let the Evil Queen go free rather than make good on her execution. She knew that Snow still saw good inside her, she saw good in everyone, and still knew the woman who saved her from the horse underneath the evil, but Emma wasn’t convinced. She always felt that no matter how much she had loved someone in the past, she wouldn’t give them the chance to hurt anyone again.

A sound, a terrible sound, caught Emma’s attention. She heard someone crying out in pain and the whack of something hard against them. She rushed forward to where she heard it come from; a narrow alleyway, so dark the moonlight was her only way of seeing what was going on.

There she saw Mr Gold arching over a bruised and bleeding Ruby, his cane glinting in the moonlight as he held it over his head before bringing it down on Ruby, making her cry out again.

“Don’t you even speak to my wife, you piece of dirt,” she snarled.

“I promise I wasn’t, it’s not like that,” she pleaded. “We’re friends, just friends.”

“You’re not even that,” she spat. “You shouldn’t even be looking at her!” He brought his cane round, ready for another swoop.

“Stop!” Emma called out, rushing forward. “Gold, stop!”

Gold turned from Ruby to her, sheer fury across his features. He pointed the cane at her and for a moment Emma feared he would turn it on her.

“You stay out of this, girl. Don’t mess with affair that aren’t yours.” He turned back to Ruby and prepared to deal her another blow.

“No!” Emma threw herself in front of Ruby and felt the metal of the cane collide with her cheek, red hot pain flooding her face. She choked out a miserable sob, tears mixing with the blood on her face. She heard Ruby muttering something to her but couldn’t make it out. She was telling her to go, get out of here, but Emma couldn’t. It was her fault she was in this mess in the first place, the least she could do was take the blow for her. She braced herself for the next one.

When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes slightly.

Before her was Patrick, his hand wrapped around Gold’s arm, squeezing it tightly. The protective snarl on his face, the determination and anger flashing in his blue eyes, she could see her Killian in him.

“Now I suggest that unless you want me to call the Sheriff and explain this you shove off,” he growled. “I doubt all your money couldn’t save you from this one.” Gold wrenched his arm from Patrick’s. For a moment Emma feared he would turn his cane on him and found herself lifting her hands to do magic as a basic instinct. Instead, Gold turned to Ruby.

“Stay away from my wife,” he warned, before exiting the alley and strolling down the street as if nothing happened.

                                                                                                                *****

Patrick and Emma helped Ruby back to the diner, where they were greeted with a surprised Granny who was serving some late-night customers. She didn’t say anything however, simply shook her head sadly and let them walk Ruby to an empty hallway. Patrick immediately went to get her some ice while Emma tried to console her.

“Ruby I’m so sorry,” she said. “This is my fault.”

“How is it your fault?” she asked, smiling slightly, only to wince.

“I told you to try to ask Paige out,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry Ruby.”

“Hey, don’t be,” she said, stroking Emma’s chin slightly. “Her husband’s brutal temper is not your fault.” Emma nodded, trying to believe her. For now, it was enough for her to put her own guilt aside and focus on healing Ruby.

Patrick returned and handed Ruby the ice pack, to which she smiled gratefully and held it against her red cheek.

“Here,” he said, handing a smaller one to Emma. “You got tagged pretty good there, Jenny.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, holding it to her face. It was beyond a relief to have the ice combat the hot pain in her face.  “And thank you for saving us back there.”

“I did what anyone would have done,” he replied.

“Well without you, Ruby and I may well have been toast.”

“Ruby?” he echoed, looking at her. “You’re Ruby?”

“Yeah?” she said, confused. She looked to Emma for an answer, but Emma had about as much of a clue as she did. Patrick reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“A woman, small, dark hair, blue eyes, handed me this in the street and asked me to give it to Ruby at the diner,” he explained, handing it over. “Unless there’s another Ruby?”

Ruby shook her head and accepted the letter with trembling hands. She opened it with care and caution, taking the letter out slowly. She smiled slightly when she read it, despite the fact she stretched the cuts on her lips.

“What does it say?” Emma asked quietly, careful not to disturb the peace that seemed to descend on them as she read.

“She says that for what it’s worth, we’ll always have the library,” Ruby said. “And she’s sorry that we couldn’t have more than that.”

“Are you okay?” Emma asked. Ruby paused but slowly nodded.

“For now, it’s enough,” she confessed. Emma turned and looked at Patrick. She may not be truly with Killian, all she had was his body and a false mind, but his true self had come through and saved her. And she decided that Ruby was right. It was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this is probably the longest chapter I've done so far for this! I've always loved Red Beauty.  
> Leave comments if you liked, they feed my ego.  
> Next chapter; Emma finds her parents.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma had her eye on the clock that hung just above the diner’s kitchen; the minute hand ticked onto twelve, then past it. One minute past three. Just one hour and fifty-nine minutes until she was allowed out. In her cursed mind, she remembered Jenny wouldn’t even pay attention to the clock, just filling her time with smiling at customers. She supposed now that if time never moved, you wouldn’t be concerned with things like when your shift was going to end, or how much your legs ached or how you were struggling to keep your eyes open or hoping that the next two hours would pass with as little trouble as possible.

Those hopes were dashed when Mayor Mills strolled in, Henry scampering in after her in his Storybrooke elementary uniform and his bulging backpack almost making him look like a turtle. She swallowed a chuckle as she watched him lagging behind Mayor Mills and hoist his bag onto the bench at the booth before trying to jump onto the seat.

Any real mother would help him, carry his bags, not sit and roll her eyes and inspect her nails while he struggled to take his seat opposite her. But she wasn’t a real mother, certainly not his real mother.

When Regina snapped her fingers at her, Emma fought to suppress the urge to lift the steak knife from the kitchen and shove it through her throat.

“Yes, Madam Mayor?” she chirped when she made her way to their booth. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee, two sugars, keep the milk in the jug so I can pour it myself,” she said coldly. “And Henry wants an orange juice and toast.”

“Is that all, Henry?” she asked, turning to him, making him jump. He bit his lip, his little hands drumming on the table, his big green eyes looking up at Regina.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “That’s everything.” Her boy was always such a bad liar, especially when it came to food.

                                                                                                ******

_The banquet table was laden down with every kind of dessert imaginable; a rich three-tier chocolate cake, a plate piled high with a mountain of eclairs, pristine glass bowls overflowing with every kind of ice-cream she could think of, a tower of cupcakes and glistening cheesecakes. And to add to that, servants were dotted around the room, one in every corner, each with a jug of a different kind of wine to make sure their cups never emptied._

_“You know, love, if this is our engagement banquet, I can’t wait to see what the wedding would look like,” Killian remarked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve seen this much food in my life.”_

_“You should have seen Emma’s sixteenth birthday, Killian,” Robert added in. “She wanted five different types of cheesecake and a chocolate fountain. And she got one.”_

_“The fountain was mother’s idea,” Emma corrected him. “And besides, Roland put the idea in her head. I just never stopped him.”_

_“It was huge,” Robert whispered to Killian. Emma rolled her eyes at her brother as he kept describing, and over exaggerating, Emma’s past banquets. If he was trying to get him to run before the wedding, Emma knew he was doing a poor job. It was going to take a lot more than Emma’s questionable eating habits to tear them apart._

_She turned and looked at her son next to her. His plate had two scoops of chocolate ice-cream and a slice of strawberry cheesecake, but while he ate, his eyes were somewhere else. Just out of reach of his tiny arms, was a plate piled with cupcakes, decorated with glittering, rainbow coloured frosting and topped with marzipan butterflies. Henry had always had a soft spot for cupcakes, and these ones were so tempting she couldn’t blame him for looking at them like they were the most precious treasures in the world._

_Her mother had been lecturing Henry about his eating habits ever since he could properly sit at a table. She sympathised, she and Robert had both been through the gruelling process of being instructed on how to eat at banquets-sit up, back straight, small mouthfuls, don’t shovel. And don’t indulge yourself, the last thing you want to do is appear greedy. But that was what her mother had taught her, and as much as she loved Snow, she was not Henry’s mother._

_“Do you have enough to eat, Henry?” she asked, smirking._

_“Yes, mother,” he said, looking up at her with sparkling hazel eyes. “Look at all my food!”_

_“But, would you like a cupcake?” she asked, playing with his hair, making him giggle and squirm when her fingers danced against the back of his neck._

_“No,” he said. “I’m fine.”_

_“Nuh-uh,” she said. “I can tell when you’re fibbing, Prince Henry.”_

_“Grandma says I can’t eat too much,” he reminded her._

_“Well, I’m your mother, and this banquet is technically for me,” Emma said. “And I say you can have what you want. So do you want a cupcake?”_

_Henry didn’t even hesitate before nodding, giving her a toothy grin. With a wave of her hand, a cupcake appeared on is plate, decorated with red icing and silver balls._

_“Wow!” he gasped, the way he always did when she used magic. “Thank you, mother.”_

_“You’re welcome, kid,” she laughed, rubbing his cheek affectionately before turning back to her own dessert._

*****

“Jenny?” Granny called as she folded napkins. “Phone for you.” Emma was confused; the only person who would need to contact her was her brother and he still had almost twenty minutes before he was let out of school. Maybe it could have been Mr Elliot, but there was no way he’d want to contact her at work. “Jenny, phone!” She nodded and left the napkins to pick it up.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Jenny Bird?” a woman whose voice she didn’t recognise asked.

“Yeah?”

“This is the Storybrooke General Hospital. Your brother Jonathan was hurt and brought here and you’re on his emergency contact list.” The word ‘hurt’ hit Emma like a bullet. She pressed one hand against the wall to steady herself, the cold of the wall nothing compared to the cold of the palm of her hand.

“Hurt?” she asked. “Is he okay?”

“He’s all right, just broke his arm. But, we need you to come down and get him.” Emma sighed and looked at the clock. She was nowhere near finished her shift. “Can you please just hold for a minute?”

“Of course-” Emma was sure she had more to say but she immediately covered the mouthpiece with her hand and called to Granny.

“Ms Lucas, I’m so sorry about this, but it’s Jonathan, he’s at the hospital and they need me to pick him up and I promise I’ll work overtime…”

“Go,” Ms Lucas said, her hand on his shoulder. “Go on, girl. Make it up to me another time.”

“Thank you, Ms Lucas,” she whispered, her heart still racing despite the knowledge that her brother was fine. She turned back to the phone. “Tell Jonathan to hold on, I’ll be there soon.”

Emma didn’t even bother lifting a coat; she just sprinted out the door and continued to barrel down the street without even thinking, stumbling round corners and almost tripping over herself before bursting through the doors of the hospital and clambering to the desk.

“My brother, Jonathan Bird,” she panted. “He was hurt, I’m his sister.”

“Okay,” the receptionist said, looking a little bit unnerved. She supposed she would be too if she were her, but that wasn’t important. “He’s just down the hall, third door on the left.

“Thanks,” Emma sighed before taking off down the hall, slower, more casual, but still with haste.

Sure enough her brother was sitting in a dark blue armchair in a small office; a desk sat in the corner almost completely covered in papers and plastic wallets, the window had a light dusting of steam on it, an old white kettle sat unplugged on the windowsill next to a sadly dying rose. A thin, pale, older woman with chestnut brown hair and a white doctor’s coat sat at the desk, bouncing her leg nervously and watching Emma.

“Jenny!” Jonathan called out, jumping up from his chair. Emma ran to him and threw her arms around him, mindful of the cast on his arm. She cradled the back of his head as she blinked back tears.

“Don’t scare me like that,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry, Jen,” he mumbled.

“What were you even doing?” she asked, pulling back from him.

“I was in gym and we were climbing the ropes,” he explained. “I fell on my arm.”

“You’re okay now,” she said. “That’s the main thing. Come on, let’s go home.”

“Actually, Miss Bird,” the woman interrupted, standing up. “You do have to pay for Jonathan’s bill.”

“What?” Emma asked, feeling her heart be crushed. Damn this realm and having to pay for medical treatments. In some kingdoms back home, including her kingdom when Regina had ruled, people did have to pay to be seen to, but not when her mother ruled, or in Arednelle or Dun Broch or her Aunt Ariel’s kingdom. “How much is it?”

“$190,” the doctor said, looking pained.

“What?” Emma exploded. Money was as tight as it normally had been, and she could probably afford that, if she and Jonathan didn’t plan on dinner next week. Jonathan took in a pained breath and hid his face his free hand. “Is there any way we can pay it off later?”

“Yes, you can pay it off in instalments,” the woman said, picking up a chart from her desk. “You can pay it off over the next four weeks if you pay….”

“That won’t be necessary,” a small voice piped from the doorway, making all three of them jump. “I’ll pay for the bill.”

When Emma saw who their mysterious benefactor was she almost had to sit down. Her flowing raven locks were all cut off and she was left with a short mop of black hair, but she still made it look beautiful. Petite and pale with a heart shaped face and green eyes and a chin so like Emma’s it hurt her. Soft pink lips in a sympathetic smile, twisting a silver ring on her hand.

Her mother.

“I can’t let you do that, Miss….” Emma protested weakly.

“Blanchard. Mary Margaret Blanchard,” she said. “And you aren’t letting me do anything, I’m offering to help you.” She reached into her bag, pulled out a white wallet with a gold clasp and began looking through it. “Um, $190 was it?”

“Miss Blanchard, that’s incredibly generous,” Emma said. “But I don’t need to take charity. I can do this myself.” Aside from the raging embarrassment she felt at the idea of someone else paying for her, this would just be proof to Regina that she is not capable of looking after her brother and then have him sent somewhere where she can’t save him.

“It’s not charity,” she said, handing the money over. “You can pay me back later.”

“Thank you,” Emma whispered, biting back tears.

“Jen?” Jonathan asked, tugging on her shirt sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said numbly, wrapping her arm around him. What else could she say? _This is our mother, she loves us, and she can’t remember us, and you can’t remember her and it’s tearing me apart._ “Come on, kid, let’s go home.”

“Oh, I’ve finished my shift, why don’t I drive you?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma felt both defeated and elated. She wanted to be close to Mary Margaret, at least that way she could have some time with her mother, or the person wearing her mother’s face, but she didn’t know how much she could take. Hell, it was hard enough having Robert-but-not-Robert around her on a daily basis and Killian-but-not-Killian running into her. “It’s not an issue, really, I’m in no rush to get home.”

The lonely part of Emma, the part that needed someone to hold her, that needed her parents, won out.

“Thanks, that’d be great.”

                                                                                                                                 *****

_“And one, two, three, one, two, three,” Snow White counted as she spun around her bedroom, her white nightgown billowing around her, her raven hair flying wildly. The early morning sun shone through the chamber window, the birds tweeting a light melody that Snow danced along to, her bare toes on the rug and her five-year-old daughter giggling in her arms._

_“Too fast, Mama, too fast!” she said. “You’re making me dizzy.” Snow laughed and lay her girl on her bed, empty now that her husband was off visiting his close friend Queen Abigail of the neighbouring kingdom. Emma grabbed the blanket and rolled herself in it, pressing her nose into the fabric. Soon all that was visible was a heap of golden hair._

_“Well, clearly there’s no-one in my bed,” Snow sighed. “So I suppose I’ll just lie down then.” Her heart warmed at the sound of Emma’s muffled giggling. When she lay down she very deliberately threw her arm across Emma’s stomach and tickled her back. “What on Earth is this in my bed?”_

_“It’s me!” Emma laughed, throwing the covers off and climbing on top of Snow, her chin pressing into her chest. Snow pressed a quick kiss to her forehead._

_“So Miss Emma, what will you do today?” she asked. Emma shrugged and kicked her feet up in the air. “Well, how about since your Papa is away on his trip, why don’t you and I pack a picnic and go down to the river?”_

_“Really?” Emma gasped, a grin stretching across her whole face and her eyes sparkling. Snow nodded, brushing Emma’s hair behind her pointed ears. “Mama, thank you!”_

_“Come on, darling,” she said, lifting her off her and walking her down to her room. “Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”_

                                                                                                                                       *****

Mary Margaret’s car was a small white thing with the back seat covered in papers and files. She cleared one seat by shoving most of them onto the floor awkwardly so that Jonathan could sit while Emma sat in the front passenger’s seat.

“Where do you guys live?” she asked as she pulled out of the hospital driveway.

“103 Winter Drive,” Emma answered. Mary Margaret nodded and set off in that direction. A silence descended on the car; Jonathan kept his eye on the cast on his arm and stroked it gently while Emma looked at Mary Margaret, who tried to focus on the road, but her eyes occasionally kept going back to her. “So, you’re a nurse?”

“Oh no,” she laughed, shaking her head. “No, I’m a teacher, I just volunteer at the hospital during nights.” Emma smiled despite everything. Volunteering to tend to the sick was such a Snow White thing to do that Emma knew her mother was not lost to her.

“That’s really nice,” she said. An idea came to her mind. “Do you think I could maybe volunteer?”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really?” Jonathan echoed, but where she was intrigued, he clearly did not believe her for a second.

“Yeah,” she said, ignoring Jonathan. “It sounds cool.” What really sounded cool was spending time with her mother, but she didn’t need to reveal that little detail. “Helping people and stuff…. It’s noble.”

“Well if you want, I can get my hands on some application forms for you,” Mary Margaret said. “It’s just a simple background check and then you’re all set.”

“That would be great,” Emma said, smiling. “I mean I work most days but I’m sure I can squeeze in some time.”

“It’s a great thing to do,” Mary Margaret went on. “Not just for CVs or whatever but for yourself. Knowing you did something good for people, knowing you put a smile on their faces. It’s a remarkable feeling.” They pulled up outside Emma and Jonathan’s house. “And this is your stop.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said from the back.

“Yeah, thank you so much. I don’t know how we can ever repay you,” Emma said.

“You’ll work it out eventually. I’m just glad you two got home safe.” She looked out the window as a few spots of rain began hitting the car. “And just in time too.”

“Good night, Mary Margaret.”

“Good night….”

“Jenny.”

“Good night, Jenny,” she smiled.

The moment Emma was inside she was hit with the feeling she knew was coming. Like a stone hitting her square in the chest, grief from missing her mother so damn much even if she had been sitting right next to her. Her hands curled up into fists and she schooled her breathing, which was fairly natural after years of practice at audiences. Her brother seemed to look past the mask, something he kept from their old lives.

“Jen?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry about the money.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed, pulling him into a hug, his head resting on her shoulder. “This country’s messed up healthcare system isn’t your fault. And gravity certainly isn’t.”

It was Regina’s fault. All of it. And she’d make her pay.

Eventually, it seemed.  

                                                                                                                                 ******

_Emma’s bedroom was lit by just a few candles, one on her bedside table and two by the door, giving Snow White just enough light to see the book she was reading to her daughter as a bedtime story. She had began sitting up across from her but ended up lying on her side with Emma next to her and the book between them. Emma’s tiny hand traced the illustration of the smiling puppy dog on the page._

_“But Chip was a brave puppy, he summoned up all his courage and trotted out into the rain to find his friends…..” She trailed off and looked at Emma, her eyes half closed, her breathing deep and even. Snow began to close the book, slowly so she wouldn’t wake, and planned on slipping it under her bed and tiptoeing to bed herself, but Emma stirred and opened her eyes, apparently having other ideas._

_“The story,” she whispered. “You didn’t finish it.”_

_“Sorry, Emma,” Snow said. “I just thought you were asleep.” Emma giggled tiredly as Snow picked up the book and began reading again. Just as before, Emma’s eyes began to close, she snuggled into her mother’s side, her arm tightening around the stuffed bear her Aunt Red had given her as a present. Snow kept reading and watched Emma until she shifted in her sleep and turned her head away. Smiling she closed the book and set it on the floor beside her._

_“Good night, Emma,” she whispered and dropped a kiss on her forehead._

                                                                                                                                     ******

Emma went back to the hospital the next day with a small bunch of flowers, an envelope containing $40 and a box of chocolates. Not just the discount ones from a gas station; she swung into a supermarket and picked up an almost fancy box. Just about fit for a Queen.

She found Mary Margaret in the coma ward. It was far too quiet; the early morning meant that very few visitors were in. The sunlight bounced off the tiled floor and white walls, making the room seem harsher, colder. Mary Margaret was walking delicately quietly around the ward, placing small vases of flowers on try tables, asking visitors if they needed anything. Emma inched closer and closer to her, feeling incredibly idiotic.

“Mary Margaret?” she asked, just loud enough so she could hear.

 Mary Margaret was startled, but still smiled when she saw Emma, her grin bringing life and joy to such a grim place. Her mother had always been able to do that.

“Jenny! What brings you here?” she asked.

“I wanted to give you these,” she said, handing over the gifts. “It’s just my way of saying thanks for the ride home last night.”

“Oh, well thank you very much.” She eyed the envelope suspiciously. “But I can’t take your money, Jenny.”

“It’s fine, please take it,” she insisted. “It’s just out of the rainy-day money, and you spent nearly $200 on my brother last night.”

“How is he?” she asked.

“Fine. Gone into school like he didn’t have a care,” she replied.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mary Margaret smiled. “Oh, here I have something for you.” She led Emma to the front of the room, where she had places her handbag on a chair near the door. “Here, the application for volunteering.”

“Thank you,” Emma sighed. “I should probably get to work.”

“Well I hope to see you here, Jenny,” Mary Margaret said.

On Emma’s way out, a patient in the bed right next to the door caught her eyes and made her stop dead in her tracks, taking small steps closer to get a better look at him.

“That’s our John Doe,” Mary Margaret explained. “He’s been here since…. Forever, I guess. Someone just found him on the side of the road with a huge gash in his right shoulder and brought him in. The doctors say that if he had been left for any longer it might have been too late.”

“And no one came for him?” Emma asked, her voice breaking.

“Nope.” Mary Margaret turned to look at Jenny, frowning slightly. “Jenny, are you all right?”

“Fine,” Emma said, wiping her eyes quickly. She may have been good at spotting lies but she was awful at telling them. She was upset, and she had every reason to be. “What happened to his shoulder?”

“No one knows. Complete mystery.”

Emma knew what it was; one of Regina’s knights had run him through with their sword while he was trying to protect her. He had always protected her.

The man in the bed was her father.

                                                                                                                                         ******

_Princess Emma Eva of Misthaven was born just as dawn was breaking to two ecstatic parents. After Doc had checked both Snow and the baby and confirmed that they were healthy, he left them with a bow, giving them some long awaited quiet time with their little princess. She was fast asleep, nestled in the blanket Granny had spent weeks carefully knitting, her name etched in purple thread._

_“Oh, she is so beautiful,” David sighed, stroking her cheek softly. He kissed Snow’s forehead gently. “You’re amazing.”_

_“And to think we almost lost this,” Snow gasped. She hugged her baby closer by instinct. “Regina nearly took her from us.”_

_“Regina cannot tear this family apart,” he whispered, not wanting his daughter to even hear the name of that woman. “We won and now we’re all here, together.”_

_“She is going to be the happiest girl in the land,” Snow decided. “Whatever she wants, she’ll have.”_

_“And no-one will ever make her feel unloved,” David agreed. Emma started to squirm, uttered soft grunts and opened one eye. “Hello little princess.” Unfortunately, Emma began to cry._

_“Someone’s hungry,” Snow sighed, and she opened her dress to let Emma feed. “It’s okay baby girl, I’ve got you.” After Emma had her fill she popped off her mother’s breast and began dozing against her, her mouth hanging open and a little bit of dribble on her chin._

_“We should probably put her in her crib,” David said, smiling at his wife._

_“Mm, probably,” Snow murmured. “But she seems happy right here.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo on the down side, that was relatively short but on the up side, Charmings left right and centre!  
> Next chapter is the one you've been waiting for; in the Enchanted Forest, Emma calls on the infamous Captain Hook to help her in a quest. Meanwhile, Emma tries to make a connection with Patrick.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugh jackman voice* Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for.  
> This chapter was actually meant to have much more in it, but I got to 3,000 words and they hadn't even boarded the Jolly yet, so I decided to split my original chapter 5 into two parts.

_“This is outrageous,” David sighed, pacing the council chambers with no sign whatsoever of stopping. In a rage, he almost tore his cloak from his shoulders and threw it over a chair which sat at the council’s table, making Emma flinch. In her twenty-one years she had never seen her father do anything more than a frustrated sigh, maybe an eye roll or muttering under his breath on a difficult day, but she had never seen such pure unchecked anger in her father. However, she supposed she had never seen him in a court setting or dealing with the kingdom’s affairs. “The Dark One’s terrorising another village.”_

_“What did he do?” Emma asked, keeping her voice low. She felt the air was far too tense and she didn’t want to make it worse._

_With his head in his hands, her father handed her a small bunch of pages. On it, documented in careful script, were the details of how another village came under control of the Dark One and how he raised taxes so high they could barely afford to feed themselves. And how more and more people were becoming indebted to him._

_“He can’t keep doing this!” she exclaimed. “These are our people, not his!”_

_“We don’t have a choice, Emma,” Snow said. “The deal we made prohibits it.”_

_The first response on Emma’s tongue was “then break it” but she held it back. She hadn’t seen it first hand, but she had heard the stories of what happened to those who broke deals with Rumpelstiltskin. People were tortured, or their families killed, people were turned into snails or exiled. She heard Belle’s screams of terror when she had nightmares about the life she had with him. So, she held her tongue, a rare occasion indeed._

_At the other side of the table, Belle and Red seemed to be having a silent conversation. Belle looked conflicted, unsure of something, but Red clasped her hand and nodded, filled with confidence. Belle gave her a smile, just some tension fading away from her._

_“I think I might have an idea,” Belle announced. “It may be risky or not even worthwhile, but it’s a start.”_

_“What is it?” Charming asked, striding to where they sat and taking the seat next to Belle._

_“When I lived with the Dark One, I heard rumours of a man who spent the last two years searching for a way to destroy him,” she explained. “And if what people have said is anything to go by, he may be getting close. Perhaps he can help you defeat him. He’s rumoured to know more than anyone else about him.”_

_“And he thinks he can kill him?” Emma asked._

_“According to rumours, yes,” she answered. “He frequents some taverns near the docks and people still talk about him.”_

_“Who is this man?” Snow asked._

_“His name is Captain Hook,” Belle answered, whispering the name as if he’d burst through the door. “The story goes that the Dark One murdered his lover and took his hand. And since then he’s vowed to kill him. He’s spent the last three years trying to find a way to destroy him.”_

_“Would he help us?” Emma asked._

_“It’s a long shot,” Belle said. “But he might, for the right price.”_

_“He will,” Snow said firmly. Her family turned to look at her, confused by her confidence in her statement. “He’s a pirate. And I have some experience with pirates. They’ll do anything for enough gold.” Charming crossed to his wife’s side, pulling her close to his side as she shook her head, her face screwed up, trying to banish those dark memories from her mind._

_Emma nodded. She had learned not to ask questions about her mother’s past as a bandit, to only listen to what she told her, but that didn’t stop her from being curious._

_“We’ll send word to him,” Charming said. “Tell him to come meet us and that we have a proposal for him.”_

_“How will it get to him?” Emma asked. “We can’t exactly throw a bottle out to sea and hope he gets it.” Her parents nodded. Emma sighed, wondering why this couldn’t be simpler. Then inspiration crept into her mind. “Belle, you said he frequents taverns?” Belle nodded. “How frequently?”_

_“Almost every night,” she said. “He and his whole crew flood the tavern at the docks mostly.”_

_“What if I met him there?” Emma asked. “And then as him to come here for a meeting?”_

_“You?” Snow asked. “Emma, it’s too dangerous. We’ll send the guards and an official messenger after him.”_

_“You can’t be sure he’d take the word of a guard?” Emma pointed out. “No, it should be me. I doubt a pirate would want to see a King either.”_

_“She does have a point,” Red said, and Emma gave her a grateful smile. Just as Red and Belle had done, Snow and Charming had a silent conversation. Charming was much tenser than Snow; his nails were digging into his sleeve, his jaw set. Snow kept pushing him, muttering to him, and he began to melt._

_“If you’re sure you can handle him, Emma,” he said. He had given up his pride, but it wasn’t without pain. “Take two guards with you.”_

_“I will,” Emma promised. “I’ll check the dockside tavern tomorrow night. Hopefully he’ll come soon.”_

_“I can’t believe we’re putting our trust in a pirate captain,” Charming sighed. Emma agreed, but remained silent. If he was their last hope, she didn’t want to curse him._

                                                                                                                            *****

Emma was walking down the street in the early evening, having finished her shift at the diner (which had thankfully been relatively blissful) when she saw Patrick; he was sitting cross-legged on the street, drumming his fingers on the black false hand the curse had given him in place of his hook. His hair shielded his face, forming a barrier between him and the rest of the world. Her Killian would never be like that, he was always such a presence wherever they went; never drawing attention to himself deliberately but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He had told her it was the years of being a captain that gave him such authority.

“Hey,” she greeted, stopping just next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Jenny,” he replied, looking up at her and brushing the hair out of his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way home,” she explained, sitting next to him. “And I just saw you here. On the ground.” He chuckled, embarrassed. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said, his voice slightly higher than usual, scratching behind his ear. That single simple gesture warmed Emma’s heart; her Killian had done it so many times before, it was his tell that he was nervous, or lying. She had never told him that she had caught on; it was more fun to poke and tease him and make him think he was a better liar than he is.

“Of course, you are,” she said dryly. “That’s why you’re sitting on the ground pouting, isn’t it?”

“I do not pout,” he retorted, with almost no force behind his words. “It’s complicated.”

“Explain it to me,” she said. She remembered another time, long ago when she had pushed him to talk to her, and here she was, doing the same thing all over again. And just as it had been then, he looked at her and the walls he was hiding behind began to come down. His shoulders dropped as he let his guard down and decided to let her in.

“I lost my job,” he said in a faint voice. “I used to work down at the docks, nothing special, just hauling things around and fishing, but….. guess they just couldn’t afford me.” He gave a bitter chuckle that broke Emma’s heart. “So here I am.”

“Wallowing in self-pity?” she asked, half joking. At least it made him smile slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he replied. She shifted her position so that she sat with her legs out, the bottom of her feet just touching the end of the sidewalk. Silence settled between them, slightly awkward, but she felt him relax more, felt that he wasn’t exactly happy, but her being there was helping him.

When he turned to take a look at her, her heart began to pick up speed. His eyes scanned across her face, still clouded and dazed, and he wasn’t even close to looking at her the way he used to, but he was still looking at her and it was something. He reached over and moved a stray lock of hair behind her ear, although his fingers didn’t linger on her cheek like he used to do, nor did they trace her jaw.

“You still have that bruise,” he said, gesturing to the purple bruise on her cheek from Mr Gold’s cane. “I guess it would have faded by now.”

“Yeah…” she sighed, touching her fingers lightly to it. “Well it’s just been a week.”

“Of course,” he muttered. “Does it um, still hurt?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Yeah.” His eyes turned back to the road and he pressed the palm of his hand against his prosthetic, his lips rolled into a thin line.

Heaving a sigh, Emma stood up, wobbling a little and his eyes followed her up.

“I should, you know, I should probably get going,” she mumbled. “You know, my brother, he’d be waiting for me and….” She felt her heart clench. Once there was a time where she could tell him everything so easily, a time when she didn’t need to tell him and he could simply read her mind.

“Of course, yes,” he agreed, stumbling to his feet as well. “I suppose I should get home now as well.”

“Sure, sure yeah. And um, you know if you need anything, you can talk to me,” she offered.

“That’s very kind, Jenny,” he said. “But I think I’ll be all right.”

“Well, if you just ever need help,” she said. “I’ve been in tough times myself. And anyway….” She gestured to the bruise on her face. “I kind of owe you.” He smiled then, almost like he used to do, dimples in his cheeks and one corner of his mouth higher than the other.

“Maybe I will. Thanks, Jenny.” He gave her a nod before turning and walking home. Emma couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she began heading back to her and Jonathan’s place. For a moment she thought she would lose him, but the smile brought her back. She could almost see the real Killian there, smiling at her across the dinner table or as they slipped into their room.

Emma’s finger brushed over the empty space on her ring finger where her wedding ring should have been. Knowing she’d have it soon enough, she walked off home.

                                                                                                                                  *****

_As strange as it seemed, Emma loved the taverns. She had only ever been to one once; Roland had helped her sneak out of the palace after days of her begging and taken her to one. It was just on the outskirts of the town and the patrons were so drunk no-one had even recognised the fifteen-year-old princess sitting at a table with her best friend, downing pint after pint until Roland had to carry her home. Her father screamed at them until he was blue in the face. It was noisy and crowded and hot, yes, but that was why she loved it. It was such a welcome change from her, lovely, but structured life in the palace._

_Emma was standing just at the docks, scanning the ships that came in. Belle had told her to look out for Captain Hook’s ship, the Jolly Roger. It would be largest one in the docks; hard to miss, and his crew the loudest. She strolled along the docks, taking note of every kind of boat there, from the small rowboats to the larger merchant ships. None of them had the look of a pirate ship._ _Emma wasn’t even sure what she was looking for._

_She decided to sit herself on a barrel at the door of the tavern and wait, hoping to catch him on his way in. She adjusted the hood of her blue cloak, pulling it more over her face. If the princess was caught out here there would be anarchy and she’d have likely half the bar trying to rob her, or worse. She reflexively reached for the hilt of her sword and glanced at the guard who stood a few feet away. Her shoulders relaxed slightly at his nod, and then he pointed with his head to the new men coming in from the dock._

_The men climbed off a new ship; bigger than the others in the dock and still looking not totally like a pirate ship; the blue and yellow painted lines around it made it look like a naval ship she had seen when seeing off soldiers. She sat up and paid attention to the men entering the bar, although they paid little attention to her. Except for the last one, he instead looked at her and her a wink. However, the wink wasn’t what she was paying attention to. The hook in place of his left hand was._

_Emma followed him into the bar without hesitation, and before she even knew what she was doing she grabbed his shoulder. He stopped immediately and she noticed how his hand moved slightly closer to the hilt of his sword._

_“Captain Hook?” she asked quietly._

_“Who’s asking?” he asked at the same volume, but there was a darkness in his voice._

_“We need to talk,” she said. “Come with me upstairs.” He turned to look at her, eyes flickering up and down her, studying her. With his reputation she had half expected to see hunger in his eyes, not curiosity and caution. “Now.”_

_“Not until I know who I’m speaking with,” he demanded._

_“All you need to know is I have a business proposal for you,” she said. “And you’ll know who I am if you follow me.” He scowled at her for a moment before his face softened and he gave a small nod._

_“All right. I’ll play.” He followed her through the bar and up the stairs after a quick word to who she assumed was his first mate. She led him into an empty office that she had asked the owner to vacate for her. He cast an unimpressed look over the room; dust covered the shelves and desk and some cobwebs covered books, empty bowls beginning to fill with mold sat on the desk. She wondered if she should ask to send some of the castle staff to clean it out for them. “You know this isn’t normally where women take me on a night such as this, but if this is what you want, I’ll indulge whatever little fantasies you have.”_

_“Excuse me?” she asked, yanking her hood down and turning to face him. She expected that he’d recognize her on first glance and suddenly beg for forgiveness. Instead he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head at her. “Is that why you think I’m here?”_

_“Isn’t it?” he asked. She scoffed. She had heard from Belle that he had a reputation, but she did think that he would be more respectful to royalty. Unless._

_“You have no idea who I am, do you?” she asked, smirking slightly in amusement._

_“Should I?” he asked._

_“My name is Emma.”_

_“What like the Princess?” he asked, a slight laugh in his voice. When she rolled her eyes, realization began to dawn on his face. “Ah, well let me make amends then.” He gave her a half bow, but he still grinned. “Apologies I’m not experienced with royalty. I’ve only ever known one royal, a prince of some faraway kingdom, and somehow I doubt you have the same intentions he did.”_

_“Like I said, I’m here on business,” she sighed. “From what I hear, you’re hunting the Dark One. Trying to find a way to kill him. Is that correct?”_

_“It might be,” he asked, his face darkening. “What business is that of yours?”_

_“Because my family believes you can help us,” Emma answered. She was struck by how young he seemed. He was older than her, but not by much, and she couldn’t imagine how he could have fallen to hunting the Dark One and building the reputation he had at his age. “That we can help each other.”_

_“You’ve got my attention, Princess,” he said, taking a step closer to her. She tilted her chin up to look him in the eye, her green into his blue. He was handsome, Emma would give him that; strong jaw and blazing eyes and dark black, wild hair, as well as cutting quite the figure in that leather coat. She wondered if perhaps, in another life, she would have been attracted to him._

_That is, if he didn’t infuriate her to the point of wanting to smack him._

_“Tomorrow morning, come to the palace,” she told him. “Come alone. My parents will tell you what they have in mind.”_

_“They must be desperate if they’re coming to me for help,” he joked. His smirk faded when Emma winced at his words._

_“We are, I guess,” she said, more to herself than him. She shook her head, forcing herself not to appear weak in front of him. “Will you do it?”_

_“What’s in it for me?” he asked, toying with his hook. Emma rolled her eyes and lifted a small pouch out of her cloak, shaking it. His eyes lit up when he heard the tell-tale jingle of coins inside. With a satisfied smile, she put the pouch back._

_“There’s more where that came from,” she promised. She decided to take a step closer to him. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. Instead the corners of his lips curled into a grin. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was impressing him, but she knew all he was interested in was the money. “Deal?”_

_“What time should I be at the palace?” he asked._

_“Come at noon,” she instructed._

_“Oh, do you need the time to do your hair, Princess?” he teased._

_“Well if noon is too early for you we can push it to later, because I’m sure that eye make-up takes hours,” she replied. To her surprise, he laughed._

_“Good one, your Highness,” he said. “I’ll see you at noon then.”_

_He let her leave first, keeping a respectful distance behind her. She took one look back at him before leaving; he had gone back to his crew. She saw him shake his head at something one of them said, giving a dismissive wave. He turned back and spotted her amongst the crowd. He gave a smile, still arrogant, but there was something else behind it, something that almost seemed genuine. He raised his cup of rum to her and nodded, inviting her to join. She shook her head furiously, smiling despite herself. She turned away and allowed the guards to lead her home before she could change her own mind._

                                                                                                                                  *****

Emma knew it wouldn’t be right for her to push Patrick and make him come to her. For one, it would only make him uncomfortable and she couldn’t risk pushing him away. She also wasn’t sure exactly how she could help him; with the life she had, she was struggling to feed herself and Jonathan, and it wasn’t as though she could get him a job either, no-one she knew was hiring. She wondered if Regina built the curse that way; every little slot filled up neatly so that when she decided to flick a piece off the board, there wasn’t room for it to get back.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked, snapping her out of her train of thought. It was them Emma realized she had been twisting the towel in her hands to the point where it was so tight that almost resembled thick rope, the kind Killian had on his ship.

“Fine,” she said, shaking the towel out and drying the last plate with it. Jonathan raised an eyebrow, doubt dancing in his eyes, but didn’t press. “Hurry up, you’ll be late.”

“You know,” Jonathan said, crossing over to put his empty bowl in the sink. “You don’t have to walk me to the bus stop. I’m fifteen.” Emma sighed and fondly ruffled his hair, being careful not to mess up what took twenty minutes in the bathroom.

“Yes I do,” she insisted. “How else would I know for sure you’re actually getting on the damn bus?” Jonathan rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning, and moved to pick up his backpack and jacket before he and Emma made their way to the bus stop.

“Okay, have a good day,” Emma said when they reached the stop.

“I will. See you later, Jenny.”

And there it was. For most of that morning, Emma had almost felt like she could have been back at home, with her real brother, that there was no curse separating them and she didn’t have to keep a false appearance in front of him. That simple “Jenny” brought all of it crashing down; this wasn’t really her brother, she wasn’t home.

Jonathan didn’t seem to notice how upset she was; he jumped onto the bus with another wave and sat down, apparently chatting away to one of his friends, or curse-friends in this case. Emma sighed deeply and turned away, beginning the walk home. She hated to sound self-centered, but she wanted someone to come to her and help her. At home if she looked upset for even a moment, one or both of her parents would come running to her, her brother tried, bless his heart, and later she would always be able to count on Killian. Here, she was utterly alone.

“Jenny?” a comfortingly familiar voice asked behind her. Patrick appeared beside her, black rucksack sitting on his shoulder. “Hey… are you okay?” The easy smile on his face had faded once he got a proper look at her face.

“Fine,” Emma said, a smile beginning to tug on the corners of her lips. “Just a bit of a rough start to the day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“So what are you doing?” she asked, hating how awkward she sounded. The two of them used to sit up into the small hours of the morning, talking about everything from his former adventures to what they’d have for dinner.

“Trying to get a job,” he said, pulling a face. “Not going well.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said.

“It’s not your fault that no-one in this town seems to need an extra hand,” he sighed. Emma nodded, but didn’t say anything. What she was about to do was going to require a tremendous amount of courage, not to mention taking a pretty big risk.

“I’m not working until this afternoon,” she said. “And if you’re not doing anything, maybe we could get coffee?” Her gut twisted for the two seconds between her question and his response. She wasn’t sure she could take him rejecting her.

Thankfully, he smiled at her.

“That’d be great,” he said. “If I’m honest I could use a cup.”

“So could I,” she admitted, laughter in her voice. “Come, there’s one down here.” They headed down the street towards the coffee shop together, making casual conversation as they went. Emma kept trying to keep the wide smile off her face, hoping she wouldn’t scare him off. His hand kept brushing against hers and she wanted nothing more than to take it.

Part of it was torture, being this close to him but him not being there, but it was a torture Emma loved.

                                                                                                                ******

_This man was so full of surprises; Emma had expected him keep them all waiting and saunter into the palace after half an hour just to antagonize them. Instead the staff came in to announce Captain Hook was at the door fifteen minutes before noon. The royal family quickly assembled themselves in the throne room, except for Henry and Robert, who were out playing in the garden under the supervision of Roland of Locksley, and asked for him to be brought in._

_He was lead in by two guards, and another followed behind him. He seemed unbothered by their presence, instead eyeing the room with admiration and reverence, his graze flying over every painting on the wall and ornate vase and the gold lining on the walls. He finally pulled his eyes away from them and looked at Emma and her family, giving a half-bow to them, a smirk on his face._

_“Your Highnesses,” he greeted._

_“Everything in this room is off-limits,” her father said. Hook raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s what the guards are for.”_

_“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “I’m sure when this is over I’ll have enough money to buy fancy vases for my whole crew. Although we may use them for their intended purposes and put flowers in them.” Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from laughing at the sight of her father faltering for a moment, outdone by a pirate. “Shall we get to business, then?”_

_“Yes,” Snow said. “Our friend tells us you’ve been hunting the Dark One. Is this true?”_

_“Well it’s either me or another devastatingly handsome pirate with a hook for a hand and cunning wit,” he joked. His expression then darkened. “What use is that to you?”_

_“The Dark One is terrorizing villages,” Snow replied. “Taking them over, making deals with their leaders and taxing them to death. Normally we would just send the army in and retake the village from whoever took it, but we can’t with the Dark One. We have a deal with him.” Hook winced in sympathy at that. “And we thought you could help us stop him.”_

_“I think I can help you,” he said, sincerity in his voice._

_“How?” her father asked. Hook sighed and gave a look to the guards behind him, then looked back at them, raising an eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, her father dismissed the guards._

_“For the last two years, I’ve been researching him,” he explained. “And in my research, I came across his weakness. A magic dagger that can control him.”_

_“I’ve heard of that,” Emma interrupted. “Belle told me about it. She said he was manic over protecting it.”_

_“You would be too if it controlled your every move,” he said. “And so, he moved it from his castle and into a safe location. And luckily, I just may have worked out where it is. I was planning to ditch my crew, sail there, grab it and end him with it.”_

_“Why would you ditch your crew?” Emma asked._

_“Because I care about them,” he confessed. “And I’m not the type to send my men into a death trap.” She couldn’t help but notice the venomous look he shot in her parent’s direction. Her father stiffened but didn’t otherwise respond. “Besides, the amount of subtlety required, it’s a one-man job.”_

_“Well now it’s a two-man job,” David said, taking Hook by surprise. “You take one of our finest warrior with you, and if you both manage to deliver the dagger to use, then we can stop Rumpelstiltskin, free our villages, and you become rich beyond your wildest dreams.” Hook considered the offer, the fingers of his good hand drumming on his leather trousers. Meanwhile, Emma began concocting her own plan._

_“Deal,” he said. “I suppose company wouldn’t be so bad on this trip. So who is your greatest warrior?”_

_“Me,” Emma said before either of her parents could react. “I’ll be going with you.” He looked pleased at this news. Her parents on the other hand, looked mortified._

_“Emma,” her mother hissed. “Emma, we can send Roland or Lancelot, there is not need for you to do this.”_

_“I know,” Emma said quietly. “But I want to. Besides, do you honestly think Roland or Lancelot could keep him in line? There’s no way he’d take them seriously. It should be me.”_

_“She’s right,” Snow sighed._

_“Emma this could be dangerous,” David warned._

_“I know,” she said. David sighed and ran his hand over his face_

_“But there is no talking you out of this, is there?” Emma smiled and shook her head._

_“So, my chaperone is to be Princess Enya here?” Hook asked._

_“Emma!” she corrected sharply. “My name is Emma.” The wide grin on his face told her everything she needed to know about him. She composed herself, but her fists were still clenched._

_“You leave in three days,” Snow said. “Is that enough time to prepare your ship, Captain?”_

_“More than enough,” he said. “And if need be, we can clear out some room to make space for the Princess’ ballgowns.” This time, Emma glared, but kept her cool. “Nevertheless, three days will be plenty of time for me to prepare.”_

_“Good,” Charming said, rising from his throne. His family followed suit. “Go back to your crew and tell them the news.” He gave another half-bow before turning and leaving. He gave Emma a sly wink before he left._

_“You know, if he wasn’t helping us, I’d be tempted to throw him over the side of his damned ship,” Emma sighed._

                                                          *****

Emma and Patrick were seated at a window table in a coffee shop, run by Emma’s old family friend Aurora, although now her curse name was Dawn. Still, Dawn seemed to serve up a great coffee. She and Patrick managed to strike up a conversation about his old job and he was chatting away like they were friends.

“I mean it was tough, and long hours and nasty bosses, but at the same time it was work, you know?” he said. “It was something to pass the time.”

“I get it,” Emma said. “I mean I’m not sure what I’d do if I didn’t have to go to Granny’s. Probably just sit at home and wait around for my brother.” Patrick nodded and danced his fingers on the lid of his coffee cup. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked.

“Any brothers or sisters?” she asked. He gave a sad chuckle.

“Just me on my own, I’m afraid, Bird,” he said. “If I do have siblings out there, I don’t know about them.” Emma thought about the times Killian had told her all the stories about his older brother Liam and how much he loved him, how they had grown up hip-to-hip and how hard his death had hit him. “Always wanted a brother, though.”

“If you want, you can just take Jonathan,” she joked. “He’s very easy to please.”

“Wow, Jenny,” he laughed. “That is cruelty right there.” She giggled into her coffee, cheeks beginning to hurt at how much she had smiled since running into him. “But you two are close.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I mean we’re all each other have ever.” He nodded solemnly, questions dancing in his eyes. “Our parents died a few years ago. I was 16.” He looked confused for a moment before the inevitable sympathy masked his face. “I could tell you had questions.”

“Perceptive,” he said. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I mean, we’re getting by.”

“Amazingly so,” he told her. “You’re a hell of a tough one.” The corners of lips quirked up into a smile. “I might even call you a tough old Bird.”

Jenny nearly spat out her coffee from laughing. Patrick’s eyes sparkled with pride and humor as she tried to compose herself.

“That was awful,” she told him. “Brilliantly awful.” The dimples in his cheeks flashed when he smiled.

“I appreciate that, Bird,” he said. “Maybe at our next coffee date, my jokes will be better.”

Emma put her cup down, not quite believing what she was hearing. Patrick wanted to spend more time with her and tell her more jokes. Was this it? The curse weakening? She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was well and truly back, but surely this meant she was reaching the real Killian?

“I mean, if you’d have me,” he said quickly, noticing how still Emma had become. “Because if you don’t want to-”

“No, I’d like that,” she said, grinning. “I would like that.” As he smiled at her, their hands, which had sat on the table until then began moving ever closer to each other.

“Miss Bird,” a voice said beside her. Emma’s stomach dropped as she turned to see Regina standing there, suspicion in her dark eyes as she watched Emma and Patrick, eyes lingering on their hands. Emma pulled her hand away and held it in her lap, much to Patrick’s apparent dismay. “I didn’t know you frequented here. Or knew this place existed.”

“Just out for a coffee, Madam Mayor,” she said. “Didn’t realize that was a crime.”

“With your friend,” she said, baring her teeth at Patrick. “It’s Rick, correct?”

“Patrick,” he corrected, slinking down in his seat. “Patrick Waters.”

“Yes, well, I must be getting on. I have work to do,” she said, casting a glance at Emma that was a silent judgement. But there was something in her haste to leave and in the way she had eyed the two of them that made Emma’s gut turn and made her want to kick herself.

“That woman has so many issues?” Patrick remarked. His eyebrows knotted together in concern when he looked over at her. “Jenny? You okay?”

“Fine,” she mumbled, taking her eyes off Regina getting into her car. “She just… I don’t know, intimidates me, I guess.” Emma kept talking to Patrick, who had moved the conversation onto a less than delightful encounter he had had with Mayor Mills, but she couldn’t focus on the conversation, not when part of her thought she just made the biggest mistake of her life.

                                                                                                                                    *****

_Emma and her family stood on the docks where Emma had met Hook earlier that week; the dock itself was littered with pieces of paper, empty rum steins and pieces of net. The rest of the town was silent, such a change from the liveliness Emma had felt when she was here to pick up Hook. The tavern was shut, the shops locked up and they seemed to be the only souls around. The sun was just beginning to climb up over the hill, painting the sky a magnificent pink and orange._

_“Mother,” Emma gasped. “I need to breathe.” Snow nodded and released her daughter from the vice-like hug she had trapped her in and Emma took in a deep breath. She loved her mother, and was going to miss her fiercely, and understood why she was so afraid of sending her daughter on a dangerous mission to a far-off realm. Still, she wished she would take it down a notch. She would need her ribs intact._

_“Sorry, Emma,” Snow sighed, taking her daughter’s hands instead. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”_

_“I’ll be fine,” she assured her. “And when I come back we can defeat the Dark One for good.” Snow nodded and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead before she moved on to her father. He was more composed than her mother, but his eyes kept going warily to Hook, who was conversing with his crew._

_“Be careful,” he warned her._

_“I will,” she promised, starting to smile. “I can handle myself.” He smiled back proudly and hugged her tightly._

_“I know you can,” he said. “We’ll be waiting for you.” Emma nodded and wiped a tear from her eye before going to talk to her brother._

_“You sure you can keep them in line while I’m away?” she teased. He huffed a laugh, but his smile faded._

_“Just hurry up and come back,” he said, a slight tone of pleading in his voice. She nodded and wrapped her arms around him._

_“Who knows, when I come back, you might be taller,” she whispered. “And able to swing a sword.”_

_The last one she had to say goodbye to was Henry. He was already crying when she knelt in front of him. She wiped his tears away for him and pinched his little soft cheeks._

_“Do you have to go, Mama?” he asked. “Just stay here!”_

_“I have to go,” she told him. “I have to go so we can stop Rumpelstiltskin and save everyone.”_

_“Then let me come too!” he begged. Emma laughed and shook her head._

_“I’d like nothing more,” she confessed. “But it’s too dangerous. You could get hurt.”_

_“You could get hurt,” he pointed out. That was her own fault._

_“I know,” she sighed. “But I’m a grown-up, I can defend myself. Okay?” Henry paused, thinking it over._

_“Okay,” he whispered. Emma hugged him fiercely, running her hand over his mop of dark hair and kissing his wet cheek._

_“Now you behave for your grandparents. Because they’ll tell me if you’re naughty,” she warned and poked his nose, before straightening herself up with a sigh. “You guys take care of him.”_

_“We will,” David assured her. “Now go. You’ve got a kingdom to save.”_

_Emma nodded and hurried up the gangplank of the Jolly Roger with her back slung over her should., Hook was already waiting there for her. He had been feigning concentration on a map and if she hadn’t caught him looking, she wouldn’t have known he had been watching her goodbyes to her family._

_“Nice outfit,” he commented. “Specially made?” She looked down at her clothes; brown leather trousers, a white shirt and blue tunic. They had been specially made, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right._

_“Let’s just go,” she said, turning to take one final look out at her family while he made his way up to the ship’s wheel. She gave them another smile and was thankful they were too far away to see her crying. She gasped when she felt the ship begin to turn and her family began slipping out of her view, and then the shore began to get smaller and smaller._

_She dried her eyes and walked up to meet Hook at the helm._

_“So where are we going?” she asked as casually as she could. He studied the map in front of him intensely. When Emma got a look at it, she thought that calling it a map was a bit of a courtesy; it looked more like a pile of notes and loose pages on top of each other._

_“A faraway realm where the Dark One has stored his vault,” he explained. “If my sources are correct, the dagger should be there.”_

_“And does this realm have a name?” she asked, growing frustrated with how cryptic he was being._

_“Avalon,” he told her. “The place we’re going to is called Avalon.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: in the Enchanted Forest, Emma and Hook's quest for the dagger unfolds, while in Storybrooke, Patrick searches for a job with Emma's help.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 12,000 words. That's a lot which is why the wait was a bit long. I do hope y'all like.

_Emma was leaning on the side of the ship staring into the vast expanse of glittering ocean, no land in sight. There was something calming in it; just her and a never-ending stretch of blue. The gentle sway of the Jolly Roger and the light breeze on her face also helped immensely. Her hands stopped shaking a while ago and her sadness at leaving her family wasn’t fading exactly, but it wasn’t as strong. The sea didn’t take away her sadness but helped bury it._

_“You should rest, Princess,” Hook said, watching her from the helm. “We’ve got a long few days ahead of us.”_

_“How are you going to rest anyway?” she asked, crossing over to the helm, but still maintaining quite a distance form him. “You can’t sail this thing all day, every day.”_

_“I can assure you I have done much more strenuous activity than this,” he said, ending it with a sly wink. Emma raised her eyebrows in annoyance. The grin faded from his face and he turned his attention back to his maps. Emma smirked to herself, proud to see that she had managed to quiet him. The grin slipping off his face was a victory as far as she was concerned. “For the record, I was talking about sailing the ship alone, not…. whatever you clearly thought.”_

_“Of course, you were,” she said dryly, but she didn’t outright ignore him. “You’ve really sailed this thing alone before?”_

_“Plenty of times,” he confessed, his tone light. “You’d never believe the stories I could tell.”_

_“I can believe that,” she said. “What about your crew, don’t they help you?” He avoided her eyes, his lips rolled into a thin line, he took in a deep breath. Emma almost immediately regretted asking, the potential answer scaring her._

_“Sometimes I just needed to be alone,” he admitted. “So, some nights I’d take her out for a spin on Neverland’s waters by myself. The crew were just below decks.”_

_“Her?” Emma asked, wrinkling her nose. She had other questions of course, but this was one to get out of the way first, and anyway, she thought she could lighten the mood a bit. “Tell me you aren’t one of those men who calls boats ‘her’.”_

_“Well what else would I refer to her as?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up, mouthing hanging open in offense. She may as well have insulted his shoes or told him that she wasn’t impressed with his ball (and she had seen both of those remarks send men into frenzies very similar to the one she was seeing here)._

_“It,” she said, trying to hide her smile, which was hard thanks to the enormous gasp from Hook. “Given that it is an inanimate object.”_

_“Don’t you listen to the nasty princess, my darling,” he cooed, lifting his hand off the wheel to touch the wood affectionately. The way he was pursuing his lips forced a laugh out of Emma and she hid it behind her hands. Hook’s eyes flitted to her, just for a moment, his lips twitched into a smile, before turning his focus back to his ship. “She just doesn’t understand us.”_

_“I do not understand…. that,” she admitted, gesturing to the scene before her of a so-called “bloodthirsty” pirate cooing at a boat like it was a new-born. “And hopefully I never will.” She scuffed her toe on the ground before moving to sit on the steps that connected the lower part of the ship to the deck where the helm was. She leaned back and took in the warmth of the rising sun, looked up and smiled at the perfect sky above her. She wondered how easy it was to get lost on the sea. Everything looked the same as far as she was concerned. How did he map out a path?_

_“So, Neverland,” she asked, turning to look at him. “Where’s that?”_

_“You don’t want to know,” he told her, wincing at the word. She waited for a longer explanation, and when she didn’t get one, she decided to at least try to dig one out herself._

_“Maybe I do,” she continued. “It’s just that I’ve never heard of it. And my tutor used to go pretty in-depth when it came to geography.”_

_“Don’t suppose you have,” he sighed. “It’s not really a tourist destination for royalty. Nor would it be on any classroom map. Unless your teacher was a sadist.”_

_“Sounds pretty reclusive. How’d you hear of it?” she asked._

_“Sorry,” he said, a little too sarcastic for her tastes. There was something behind the sting in his words. “But that story is reserved for people who have known me for at least two years.” Emma rolled onto her stomach, not caring about the feeling of solid wood poking her stomach and studied him. He couldn’t have been much older than her, yet he acted years older than her. The defensiveness and biting wit was for someone beyond his years._

_“How old are you anyway?” she asked._

_“Twenty-four,” he told her flatly. She frowned. She was right; not much older than her, but he was one of the most feared pirates in the realm, with a reputation enough to reach Belle in their castle._

_“I don’t get it,” she said, standing up and crossing to him. “You’re three years older than me.”_

_“Your tutor liked arithmetic as well as geography,” he remarked lightly. “What a wonderful education.”_

_“You’re three years older than me but you….” She tried to search for the right way to end that sentence without hurting him. He managed to beat her to it and she wasn’t sure if she was thankful for that._

_“But I’m the most cutthroat pirate to hoist a sail?” he finished bitterly._

_“That’s what they say,” she replied. He rolled his eyes._

_“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear in taverns,” he muttered. “Stories can be greatly exaggerated.” Instead of retreating backwards and heading to the cabin, she found herself leaning on the helm and looking at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised, foot still poised to make a run for it if she needed to. He gave her a glance out of the side of his eye and sighed. “You won’t give up until I tell you, will you?” Emma puffed out her cheeks and shook her head. “The Dark One murdered the woman I love. And I intend to make him suffer for it.”_

_“Oh,” was all Emma said, jumping back from the helm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-I shouldn’t have-I’m sorry I made you tell me.” He didn’t respond except for a small shrug, trying to keep up the appearance of not caring. “So, what, you turned all dark broody evil pirate for revenge?”_

_“I think we’ve made that point quite clear,” he sighed. Emma pushed herself off the helm and made her way towards the stairs. The conversation was taking an unpleasant turn and she wanted to get out of there before it could go anywhere else. She wasn’t afraid of him harming her; she had a feeling she could handle him and if she didn’t return, the entire royal Navy would be sent on his ass. She just didn’t think she could take his blunt answers and half smiles for one more minute._

_So, she walked down below deck, biting back another response, and left him to steer the ship alone._

                                                                                                ******

Patrick was sitting at the counter, downing his third coffee, each one with a greater splash of whiskey than the last. He hadn’t spoken to anyone beyond the friendly nods he had given to Emma whenever he could. The diner had been packed to the brim, not unusual for a Saturday night. As soon as one table was wiped down, customers were sitting at it again. It had got to the point where she could barely feel her legs as she flitted from table to table to the counter to the table again.

Thankfully, it had began to wind down as families with kids and young lovers on dates began to leave, heading to their homes or the bar or their lover’s place. Emma noticed Paige and Mr Gold out tonight, him in a suit almost identical to the one she last saw him in, and her in a pale-yellow sundress and white cardigan. Ruby had flinched almost as soon as they had entered, fearfully eyeing the cane Gold was using. She didn’t even have to ask before Emma went to their table.

Just as they were leaving, Gold made a quick trip to the gentleman’s room and Belle scurried to the counter, where Emma was folding napkins while Ruby was serving drinks to the man who used to be Grumpy. She placed a small envelope on the counter, as well as a couple of $1 bills.

“A tip,” she said quietly. “And…. Could you give that to Ruby?” Emma nodded and slipped the envelope under the counter and the notes into the tip jar, giving Paige a grateful smile. After all, those tips were her bread and butter. Before Paige could say anything else to her, Mr Gold emerged from the bathroom and slid his arm around her waist.

“The food was lovely, Miss Bird,” he said flatly before leading Paige out the door. Emma noticed Patrick’s eyes on them as they left. She wondered if he still felt something, deep down, for the man who had murdered his first love.

“He seems nice,” he remarked bitterly to her when he noticed her.

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Practically Prince Charming.” His face lit up momentarily when he huffed out a laugh, but he almost immediately went back to staring into his coffee again. Emma leaned on the counter, her face inches from his, their foreheads almost touching.

“What’s up?” she asked. His mouth quirked into a small smile when he looked at her.

“Settling in to the idea of unemployment nicely,” he joked. “All that’s left for me to do is find a nice snug little cardboard box and a harmonica. Do you think I should go with a hobo bundle and straw hat for the full effect?”

“You’re not going to be homeless, Patrick,” she assured him. “We’ll find you something.” He raised an eyebrow at her and knocked back his coffee.

“You’re quite the optimist, Bird,” he remarked. “How do you do it?” The joking tone was still there, but his smile dropped. She shook her head. Of course, she couldn’t tell him she was falling apart every day, had no idea what she was doing, and frankly, had bigger problems than potential homelessness. So, she spun a pretty story for him.

“It’s like my mom always used to say,” she said with a sad smile. “You just hold on to the belief that everything’s going to get better and one day it will.” Patrick raised his eyebrows at her, seemingly impressed. “But I am not my mother, and I think a little bit of elbow grease moves your life along. So…”

“So, you think I should go pounding on every business in Storybrooke until they let me in?” he asked jokingly. “Because I tried that.”

“Well, maybe you’re just doing something wrong,” she suggested, trying to keep her tone light. He wasn’t upset at her implication, in fact he chuckled.

“Well I wouldn’t be too surprised,” he said. “This is my first job hunt.”

“Maybe I could help,” she offered. “Take a look at your resume, polish it up, that sort of stuff.”

“Look, Jenny,” he said. “I’m flattered, but I can’t ask you to go out of your way for me. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed enough as it is, what with your job and your brother….”

“I have time outside of my job,” she said. “And Jonathan is fifteen. And goes to school. I can take an hour out of my busy schedule.”

“You can?” he asked, starting to smile.

“Well,” she began. “I mean I would have to cancel dinner with myself on Tuesday, and I’ll have to push sitting alone in my room back to Saturday, but something tells me I can squeeze you in.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” he laughed. “This is… really great of you.” Emma’s breath caught in her throat when she saw how he was looking at her. Killian still wasn’t quite there yet, but Patrick was looking at her like she was…. Well, quite appropriately, like she was his saviour. Maybe it was just because she was helping him, but she was going to take what she could get.

“Jenny!” Granny’s sharp voice called from the kitchen. “I don’t pay you to flirt with customers like that!”

Emma’s face flushed red at the mention of ‘flirting’. Patrick looked equally uncomfortable; his eyes darted to the floor and he scratched behind his ear lightly.

“I suppose I should get going then,” he said. “Although frankly, she has put me off getting a job altogether.”

“She’s not so bad,” Emma laughed. “A teddy bear, really.”

“Grizzly bear,” he corrected, paying his bill, and then passing a five-dollar bill across the counter.

“Patrick,” she said. “If money’s tight, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said. “Just my little way of thanking you.” When she didn’t take the money, he leaned across the counter. “Look, either you take it, or we do that weird thing where I press it into your hand. And I don’t think either one of us wants to put up with that.” With a smile, Emma placed the money in the tip jar.

“Thanks, Patrick,” she said, before he gave her a smile and left the diner.

                                                                                                *****

_Emma didn’t know exactly what she expected when she went into his cabin. Not that she thought he had the bodies of former lovers in there, like the stories her mother had told her, but she wasn’t expecting what she was, which was a neatly pressed bed with dark blue covers, a small wooden desk with a bronze globe on it, yellow painted walls and a neatly organised bookcase. She ran her fingers gently, quickly, over their spines, taking in their titles. Some were in languages she hadn’t heard of before, some read “Captain’s log”, some were manuals on how to cook, steer, some had titles like “Plants of the Twelve Realms” or “Master’s Guide to Ocean Dwellers”._

_She strained her ears to try to hear if he was coming down, but all she could hear was the creaking of the ship. She gently took “Master’s Guide to Ocean Dwellers” off the shelf, sat herself down on the bed and began to read._

_On the first page, the words “Property of Captain Liam Jones” were written carefully in black ink. Emma frowned, wondering briefly who this ‘Liam Jones’ was, before turning the page and reading through the pages filled with a full range of creatures, ranging from the smallest, rainbow coloured fish to giant sea snakes with poisoned fangs that could kill a man in one bite. It excited her, intrigued her, kept her turning the pages until she heard him tap his foot against the door and enter. When she looked up, she saw him carrying two plates of food, one in his hand and the other nestled into his hook._

_“Here,” she said, crossing the cabin and lifting one from his hook. He gave her a grateful nod. “I’m guessing there is a technique to that?”_

_“There is,” he said. “Only mastered after years of working with a hook.” He set himself down on the chair at the desk. “Eat up. Finest sea bass this side of the ocean.” Emma poked at it with the fork he had provided her with._

_“How did you cook it?” she asked, popping one piece into her mouth. It was rough, bland, slightly chewy, but not too bad. Although she’d die before telling him. “Doubt you can fit an oven down there.”_

_“Is it not up to your standards, Princess?” he teased. Emma shook her head and swallowed._

_“It’s fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Just making conversation.”_

_“Well, if you must know, I had the fish preserved and heated it over a fire,” he told her, cocking his head. His eyes moved from her to the book beside her. “Bit of light reading?”_

_“Oh,” she said, glancing at it before looking back at him. “Something to pass the time with.” They sat in awkward silence for a while. “So, no one is steering this thing right now?”_

_“We’ll be all right,” he assured her through a mouthful of fish. “The sea’s calm, we’re not near land and unless the wind changes, which it most likely won’t, we’ll keep on course. We should reach Avalon with a week at most.”_

_“I’ve heard of Avalon,” Emma told him. “Queen Guinevere and King Lancelot of Camelot, they’re close friends with my parents, and I used to eavesdrop when they talked. She said Arthur, her former husband, used sand from Avalon to control her.”_

_“I have no doubt he did,” Hook said. “Avalon is a land filled with magic. Which makes it the perfect hiding place for the Dark One’s dagger.”_

_“How did you even hear it was there?” she asked, slightly in awe. “I doubt the Dark One gives out that information lightly.” He laughed softly and ran his good hand through his hair._

_“I did my research. Listened to those who had survived him. Pieced together whispers.”_

_“Wow. Dedicated,” she breathed, daring to address the elephant in the room. “All to get your revenge.” He stiffened at the mention of it, taking in a deep breath. Emma almost regretted what she said. Almost._

_“I think we’ve established that, Princess,” he said. Emma probably should have kept her mouth shut, but she didn’t listen to that damn voice in her head. If her Uncle Jiminy could see her now he’d be having a fit._

_“Revenge will not bring her back,” she reminded him sharply. He got up then, tossing his plate aside, and she did the same, almost going nose to nose with him. There was anger in his eyes and she knew she hit a sore spot. Part of her wanted to take it back, part of her didn’t. He needed to hear how futile his quest was._

_“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hissed._

_“Maybe I don’t,” she spat. “But my parents were at war with the Evil Queen, they lost so, so many good people. And yet neither one of them fell into revenge for it.”_

_For just one single moment, his eyes blazed before he stepped back. His face fell, the iron mask of anger slipping away and revealing a softer face, shocked even. He opened and closed his mouth like a codfish, panting heavily._

_“I should check the helm,” he said before hastily leaving. Emma sank down onto the bed, thinking over the whirlwind that had been the last few minutes. From an easy conversation to the brink of an all-out fight to him running out after looking as though he was either going to throw up or cry._

_Emma exhaled and lay back on the bed. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to go above deck and face him, so she rolled over and faced the wall. The rocking of the ship was relaxing, and the almost fight had taken the last of her energy. It had also been a very long day. She lost the battle with her eyelids, and the last thought before she slipped into sleep was wondering who Liam had been to him._

_Meanwhile, above deck, Killian kept trying to focus on the sea. It had always calmed him, even when he was a mere boy, before his father left and everything went to hell._

_But damn it, she was right. And he knew it. Deep down, he had always known it. This quest for revenge was never going to satisfy him, not really. Perhaps he would get a rush at the beginning, happiness knowing that he had got justice for Milah. But afterwards, what would there be for him? A prison sentence, or execution. Or if he had decided to kill him with the dagger, becoming the Dark One himself. That thought had terrified him; spending centuries alone with no love, no ability to love, only dark magic and a corrupted heart. He took the path of revenge because he thought it was the only way to go. He had no-one else to lean on and nowhere else to go, only down the path. But there was truth in what the Princess had said, no matter how much he tried to deny it when she first said it. Other people, people like her parents, had suffered as he did and hadn’t turned to vengeance. Perhaps there were other paths he could take. Building a new life for himself, somewhere far away. Maybe even helping people instead of drinking his sorrows, become the hero he used to pretend he could be._

_He shook those thoughts away and focussed on the sea. He’d play the hero with Princess Emma and help her and her family defeat or capture the Dark One. And whatever came after would come. He would cross that bridge when he came to it._

                                                                                                *****

 

A few nights later, Emma invited Patrick round to her place, which had been an arduous task in itself. First, there had been tracking him down. All their encounters up until now had been simply by chance, and it wasn’t like she could make him magically appear out of thin air. She had strolled up and down the street a few times, waited outside Granny’s, before bumping into him in one of the strangest places; outside a bar. As she was walking home, the wind blew her hat right off, which was the last thing she needed, and she ran through the puddles on the street chasing it. It landed right at his leg, just as he was coming out. He smiled at her when he picked it up.

“I suppose this is yours then?” he asked.

“It is,” she panted as she took it from him. “I chased it here from Granny’s.”

“Looks like it kept you going,” he replied.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked. “I mean, this isn’t exactly….” Safe was the first word that came to her mind, as was sensible.

“I had a job interview,” he said with a grimace. “Did not go well.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said. “But um, my offer from a few nights ago still stands.”

“You know, I actually would appreciate that,” he said. “As you can guess, I am free absolutely any time.”

“Tomorrow night?” Emma asked. “I’m only working in the morning and Jonathan is going to a friend’s house.” He grinned at her and extended his hand. “Does seven suit?”

“Seven is perfect,” he said. “It’s a, not a date. An appointment?” Emma smiled, avoiding his eyes.

“An appointment.”

And so that was how she ended up with Patrick sitting in her living room, the two of them drinking hot cocoa (with water because she needs to run to the shop) and looking over his resume. His leg bounced nervously, his hand rubbing against his wrist, his eyes full of anticipation while she read it. Emma knew nothing about this, but she found she could tap into Jenny, her memories, her knowledge, and uses it. It was strange, two lives, two memories. It was not so hard when she had something to occupy her, and during the day she had everything to occupy her, but at night it would often overwhelm her, leaving her breathless just sitting there.

“How bad is it?” Patrick asked.

“Not too bad,” she said. “I mean you have everything you need to have in it. Just not in enough detail.” He sank back into the sofa and she leaned back with him. “So, you just have to flesh it out. Like there you said you were a boy scout?”

“Don’t mock me,” he said. “I didn’t wear the beret.”

“Such a shame,” she joked. “But what I mean is, talk about what you learned in boy scouts. Kindness, fairy play, teamwork.”

“Seriously?” he asked.

“Yeah, bosses love that,” she said. He nodded and started jotting down her points. “And talk about your skills.”

“What skills?” he asked.

“You tell me,” she said. “What can you do aside from look pretty and pulling big things around or whatever it is you did at the docks.”

“Well,” he huffed, but with a smile. “I play guitar.”

“That’s good,” she said, eyes being naturally drawn t the fake hand in place of his hook. He blushed a bit when his eyes followed hers. He pushed the forefinger and thumb closer together.

“I put the pick in there,” he said. “Bit of a bother but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Cool,” she said, holding her question back. She did wonder how Regina made him think he lost his hand in this realm and if it was as gruesome as the Dark One maiming him. He met her eyes and smiled softly.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Everyone asks eventually. I was six and my mum closed the door on my hand by accident. And it was so mangled that the doctors though chopping it off was the best choice.”

“I’m sorry,” she winced. Just as gruesome, but in a different way.

“I adapted,” he said, shrugging, before gasping softly. “Would that be worth putting down?”

“That you adapted?” He nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling. “I mean yeah. Yeah that would be good. And talk about playing guitar too, it shows you’re committed.” She paused for a moment. “I mean you are committed right?”

“Of course, I am,” he squeaked in mock offense. “I can play any song you want me to.”

“Any song?” she repeated, raising a sceptical eyebrow. He scrunched up his face.

“As long as it’s a classic rock, there is a 60% chance I can play it,” he said, making Emma laugh, Gods above, she missed him so much. Having him here was something but not enough.

“Good…. That’s good,” she said, taking a deep breath, trying to put up a brave, normal front. He frowned slightly when he saw her smile fade.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” she lied. “Just… it’s been a long day.” He nodded and turned to face her, his arm on the back of the sofa.

“I can go if it’s too much,” he said.

“No,” she replied quickly. “No, no it’s fine. Really.” He frowned slightly at her.

“Why are you so interested in me?” he asked. “I’m not that special.” She held back the urge to slap his shoulder and tell him exactly how special he was to her.

“I owe you,” she said instead. “Who knows what would have happened to me and Ruby if you hadn’t shown up when you did.” Patrick’s cheeks and ears went red (she had always felt bad for Killian that he was never able to hide when he was embarrassed) and he ducked his head to avoid her eyes.

“In that case,” he said, and lifted his mug. “To new friends.” Emma huffed out a laugh and lifted hers.

“To new friends,” she echoed and clinked her mug against his.

                                                                                                *****

_Emma had now been on board the Jolly Roger for three full days. Three full days of staring out at the ocean and flipping through books and journals and three tense meals a day and thinking about her parents, her brother, her son all back in the palace, hoping the knew she was okay. She stood at the bow of the Jolly, watching the sun glisten off the waves. Robert would have loved to see this. As would Henry._

_“Princess,” Hook called from the helm. “I need you for a minute.” Well, there went three days of awkwardly nodding to each other as a greeting and answering any and all questions with either “yes” or “no”. She strolled up to the helm, remaining quite distant from him. He noticed how she stood as far from him as she could, but he didn’t make her move closer. “I thought it would be wise to go over our plan for when we arrive in Avalon.”_

_“Okay,” Emma said, stepping closer. “So, what is our plan. Assuming we do have a plan?”_

_“Well,” he said, taking a large sheet of paper out from under the helm and spreading it out. “If you’d be so kind.” Emma rolled her eyes and marched up to the helm and checked out the page. It was a map, but it looked ancient and she could barely make it out. The island on it looked tiny, with a lake running almost all the way through it._

_“I take it that’s Avalon?” she asked._

_“Exactly. And there…” He indicated with his hook near the top of the island. “Is where, if my reports are correct, the Dark One has hidden his dagger.”_

_“Okay,” Emma nodded. “So, what should we do? Just run in and grab it, it can’t be that easy.”_

_“It’s not,” he said. “We’ll arrive here on the north of the island, and it should be half a day’s walk to the vault.”_

_“I take it by your tone that that will be the easy part?” Emma asked, an uneasy feeling in her stomach._

_“Indeed,” he said. “To get inside the vault, there’s a combination, which I have in my journal.”_

_“How did you get that?” she asked._

_“Get someone drunk enough they’ll tell you anything,” he replied. “And once we’re in…. We improvise.”_

_“Improvise?” she repeated, her voice echoing throughout the vast nothingness.”_

_“Yes, Princess,” he said. “It’s not like I know what’s in there. The only one who does is the Dark One himself. So, we’ll see what it’s like when we get there.”_

_“Amazing,” she muttered. “The fate of my kingdom rests on our ability to think on our feet.” He chuckled slightly. “What?”_

_“You doubt yourself too much,” he told her. “With your skills and wit, my skill with a sword, we’d make quite the team.” What Emma wanted to say was ‘do you think so?’._

_“Stop kissing up to me,” was what she said instead. “You’ve known me for less than a week.”_

_“Maybe, but I’d wager that if your parents were willing to send you off on a mission with me, they have faith in you. And if this is important to them, they wouldn’t send someone who couldn’t get the job done,” he said simply. Emma tried to hide her blush and if Hook did notice it, he didn’t say anything._

_“Thanks,” she muttered before clearing her throat. “So, Avalon, what are we dealing with there?”_

_“Anything and everything,” Hook said with a grimace. “Avalon runs on magic. And the Dark One’s dagger will be the most heavily guarded thing there. And there is the small detail of having to make sure that we are undetected.”_

_“Undetected?” she echoed. “What, does he have spies in there?”_

_“Well, if you had an item that could control your every move, you’d want to have it under some form of surveillance.” Emma nodded, an idea flickering in the back of her mind._

_“I think I might have a plan,” she said. Hook didn’t turn to look at her, but she noticed a knowing smile grace his lips._

_“What is it, Princess?” he asked._

_“Once we’re in, I can put up a cloaking spell,” she said. “I don’t know how long I can hold it for, but I think it should be enough for us to get the dagger if I start once we get close to it.”_

_“Excellent plan,” he said, turning to look at her. Contrary to what she had expected, there was no mocking, no side jab. Just admiration in his eyes. “You’re a clever girl.” She raised her eyebrows coolly and he nodded. “Clever woman.”_

*****

If there was one thing, and really, one thing, Emma could appreciate of this new realm it was the music and the ability to listen to it wherever they went. Jenny had had an iPod and Emma wasn’t planning on discarding it any time soon. Strolling around Storybrooke in the evening with a certain Michael Jackson in her ears was rather enjoyable. She hoped when they returned home she could take this with her.

Underneath the song (called Billie Jean, one Jenny had had a particular fondness for and Emma happened to agree with her counterpart) Emma could hear someone calling her, or rather calling Jenny, feel someone coming up behind her.

“Jenny,” Patrick panted as she took her headphones off and turned to face him. There was a charming, wide smile on his face, his hair slightly messy, his eyes sparkling.

“You look chipper,” she remarked. “Something good happen?”

“It did,” he said. She couldn’t help but smile at him; he was almost buzzing. “I managed to get a job!”

“Ki-Patrick that’s amazing!” Emma said. “I’m so happy for you.”

“And I owe it all to you,” he said. “You’re the one who helped me get here.”

“No, no,” she chuckled. “You’re the one with the skills. I just nudged you gently in the direction you needed to go.”

“Whatever you say, Bird,” he said. “But I still believe a thank you is in order. What night are you free?”

“Um… not working Tuesday night. Or Sunday.”

“Perfect. So, I think Sunday night, you and Jonathan can come around to mine. I can get the finest pizzas a low budget borderline homeless youth can buy,” he offered.

“That would be great,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “As long as Hawaiian is not an option.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he said gravely. A beat passed between them, a small moment of silence filled with bright smiles and eyes flitting from each other to the floor. “I should go then. The boss will be waiting for me.”

“Of course. So where is this place?” Patrick pulled a face.

“All over town, picking up rubbish,” he said as he made his way to work. “And taking it all the way to the landfill. Sometimes until the wee hours of the morning.”

“Oh lovely,” Emma said, putting her hand to her face to hide her blush as she walked on. She felt silly; blushing in front of her husband for crying out loud. But there was a spring in her step as she made her way home.

The spring slowly slipped away when she began putting two and two together. This was Regina’s chessboard. Nothing happened unless she wanted it to. And Patrick having another job, that wasn’t just something that happened. That was a calculated move, it had to be. The Evil Queen did nothing without a reason.

The words “speak of the devil” never rang truer for Emma when she saw Regina turn the corner and come within a few feet of her. Her eyes flicked over her, a sneer on her mouth, fire in her eyes. But this was more than just a usual disdain.

“Madam Mayor,” she greeted coolly as she clutched her coat tightly. Emma willed her heart to slow down. All she needed was to get out of here.

“Miss Bird,” she replied. “I saw you talking to Mr Waters.”

“Patrick?” Emma asked. “Yes, we’re close.”

“I see,” she said. “Well I’m sure he’s told you the good news. He’s re-joined the ranks of employment.”

“He told me. I’m happy for him.” She lifted her chin slightly, not looking the Queen in the eye but not looking down either. She would not appear weak.

“Indeed,” she said. “Well when I saw how miserable he was around town I simply had to do something. Put in a good word with the community centre, see what they can get for him.”

“You got him that job?” Emma asked, a little too quickly for her liking. The Queen grinned and stepped closer to Emma. Emma would have moved, only she felt herself be rooted to the spot, unsure if it was magic or her own fear.

“I did. Because you see, Jenny,” she whispered. “Nothing happens in this town without me.” Emma refused to squirm under her gaze, forced even breaths for what seemed like an eternity until she decided to take a step back. “I do know everything that goes on in this town. Miss Bird. Absolutely everything.”

                                                                                                *****

_Emma first noticed a change in the water; she had been staring at a dark blue expanse every day for five days since she boarded the ship, watching the sunlight dance on the surface, looking like the night sky alight with stars, then it suddenly changed to a bright, almost blinding, shade of blue. Emma had to take a few staggering steps back from the edge of the ship until her eyes adjusted._

_“Hook?” she called, keeping her eyes fixed on the water. She didn’t even need to look at him to see his reaction._

_“We’re here,” he said gravely. “Avalon.” Emma turned and looked towards the bow of the ship. She was greeted by the sight of a swiftly approaching island, covered in lush-looking grass. As Hook pulled the sails tighter and the ship gained speed she could start to make out wild flowers of every colour she could imagine and tall trees. There was something else too. She felt her body buzzing, a tingling sensation beginning in her fingertips and spreading up her arms the closer they got. By the time Hook was docking the ship in the northern part of the island, her whole body felt almost like it was glowing. Every part of her was wriggling, shivering, her heart pounding nearly uncontrollably. Since she was young she could sense magic in the air. Merlin had told her that people with magic could sense magic when it was in the air. She had felt it at some points in her life, when Merida took her to see the whisps in Dun Broch, when she had met Elsa, when she used to creep into the nursery to see the magic wardrobe. But that was a trickle down her spine, a tickle in her cheeks for a minute. This was everywhere, all the time. She wanted to just rip off her skin if it would make it stop._

_“All right, your Highness?” Hook asked after bringing the ship to a halt and running beside her, concern lining his voice and creeping into his eyes._

_“Fine,” she said. He knew she was lying, she could tell, but didn’t press. “You were right. This place is riddled with magic.”_

_“Aye. Come now, we have a long trek ahead of us.” He swung his sack over his shoulder, prepared that day with two days’ worth of food and water, plus his journals, and made his way to the gangplank, Emma following him, clutching the hilt of her sword for luck._

_When her feet hit the ground of Avalon, she felt what she could only describe as sparks shooting up and down her legs, making her more than slightly dizzy. Hook instinctively reached out to steady her, but a quick, stern look sent him back. No matter how good him helping her may have felt, she wasn’t having that right now._

_Avalon truly was beautiful, despite how it made her feel. All she could see was soft grass she wanted to roll around in and beautiful flowers and a clear sky and rolling hills and a light breeze. After she took in the beauty, she paused and looked around. The trees had no nests, there were no butterflies, no burrows. She strained her ears but couldn’t hear even the faintest squeak, and the path before them was completely bare._

_“No life,” she remarked to a surprised Hook. “Look around. Listen. There’s no wildlife. Nothing.”_

_“Avalon is different from most realms,” he said. “Even Neverland had birdsong. Come, your Highness. Best not to dawdle. Who knows what could be out here?”_

_So, Emma followed him. They made their way through the forest fairly quickly, taking a few stops along the way to rest and take a quick drink. As they kept going, Emma could take less and less o the silence between them. Hook was a very good actor; pretending to be interested in everything on that godforsaken island besides her; every rock, every blade of grass, every interesting plant would get a glance from him._

_“So, who is Liam?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. He whirled to face her, stopping them both in their tracks, a snarl beginning to grow on his face before it was replaced by something else, something more tragic, sadness rather than anger. He took a step back from her, looming at the ground, his fist trembling. Emma wished she hadn’t said anything. “It was in the book I was reading on your ship. Property of Liam Jones.” His mouth fell into a small ‘oh’ shape, his hand fidgeting at his side. “Friend?”_

_“My brother,” he said in a thick voice. “He was my brother.” He started to walk again, faster this time, and Emma wanted to kick herself as she marched alongside him. “He’s gone now.”_

_“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think….” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”_

_“It was a while ago,” he muttered, but she could tell it wasn’t long enough. “He was a good man.”_

_“So, you’re…. Hook Jones?” she asked, trying to clear the air. Despite everything he must have been feeling, he chuckled. “Come on your parents can’t have named you Hook. That would be too much of a coincidence, and I have an Aunt whose name is Red. And her wife’s name literally means ‘Beauty’ and she is definitely worthy of that name.” He laughed again. He had nice laugh and an even nicer smile, Emma noticed. “Indulge me.”_

_“My name is Killian,” he said. Something about his face told Emma he hadn’t said that word in a while. “Killian Jones.” Now that he said it, he looked like a Killian. Killian suited him much more than Hook did._

_“Nice name,” she responded softly._

_From there, the trip was easier. Both she and Hook were nervous, but they managed easy conversation about the sea and her kingdom and the ship, which Emma still refused to call ‘she’. As the journey went on, the feeling Emma had had since they arrived, the sign of magic, was overwhelming her, beginning with a faint buzzing in her head. She fought it off as well as she could, and true to form she fought it for a while, until she lost her sense of balance and nearly crashed right into Hook._

_“Okay, why don’t we take a break,” he suggested, guiding her over a tree that provided shade for her and sat her down, despite her protests. “Everything all right?”_

_“A slight headache,” she said, making him raise his eyebrows. “A headache. I think it’s all the magic here. Like I can feel it and it’s all just a little-Gash!” She couldn’t finish her sentence, for a wave of pain rolled through her head. Hook nodded and looked over past her._

_“One moment, your Highness,” he said before running past her. When he returned, it was with a wet cloth that he pressed against her forehead. The water was so cold, she would say unnaturally cold, but all she could do was sigh in relief. Gods that felt good. All she could do was mouth a ‘thank you’ to him before letting the cool sensation run through her. “How does that feel?”_

_“Fine,” she whispered, not wanting to tell him how grateful she was for it. “Come on, we can’t waste more time-” She moved to get back up but was met with Hook gently pushing her down._

_“We can wait a few minutes until it passes, love.” Her eyes fluttered up to him, a shiver running down her back at the word “love”. “Don’t look like that, I call almost every woman love. The only woman I haven’t called that is my mother.” Emma shook her head, only to be met with a stab of pain behind her eyes. Hook pressed the cloth harder against her forehead, watching her with concern. It was strange, seeing another side to this man who had been so guarded until now. She sat against the tree, hearing nothing except her own deep breaths and his occasional movement, until the pain subsided._

_“I think I’m good,” she said, the pain in her head now a dull throb that she could ignore with effort. She opened one eye and looked up at him, his face still creased with worry. “I can go on, really.” He nodded, looking reluctant, and helped her to her feet._

_“I’m glad you’re all right, your Highness,” he said, a faint smile on his lips._

_The rest of the trek to their destination was silent, but much more pleasant than it had been, with occasional comments from Hook about “that lovely flower” or “that unusual tree”. What surprised her was the lack of sarcasm; he seemed to genuinely admire the scene around him._

_As they reached the top of a hill, Emma noticed a stone structure before them, dark brown and wide and barely a foot high. Something unpleasant settled in her stomach, making her want to sprint back to the ship as fast as she could. There was something wrong about this place. Something dark._

_“This is it,” she whispered._

_“The vault of the Dark One,” Hook said, his hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes darting to the surrounding trees. “If it’s not too forward your Highness, that cloaking spell would be marvellous.”_

_Emma closed her eyes. Deep breath in, like Merlin had always taught her. Reach for it, work with it. She felt her magic rise up from her gut, flow out from her fingertips, stretching out to encompass Hook. She felt herself shaking from the effort until her gut told her to stop, that she was done. When she opened her eyes, she saw a concerned looking Hook bathed in a greenish hue, setting him apart from the rest of Avalon. When she looked down at her own hands and saw them in the same hue, she gave a nod to him._

_“It’s done,” she said triumphantly. “We’ll need to stay close together. Probably no more than a few feet from each other but it will hold.”_

_“Well,” Hook said with a smirk. “I won’t object to being close to you, your Highness.”_

_“Don’t make me smack you,” she said. “Open the vault, please.” They approached it together. Up close, Emma could see that it was a circle, probably the same width as her and Merlin’s tower, covered with a bronze lid decorated in large carvings of different images; a sun, a bear, a fish, a moon, a flower, a lion, a snake to name just a few. Emma was fascinated. “You said there was a code?”_

_“Yes,” he said, squatting next to the vault and reaching his hand over to cover the symbol of the sun, which glowed orange at his touch. “Sun….” He moved his hand to the snake and it did the same. “Snake…. and moon.” Like with the first two, the symbol of the moon glowed at his touch. The lid divided into thirteen sections and opened, revealing a drop down onto a stone floor._

_Hook held out his hand to her._

_“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow._

_“Better than jumping alone,” he said. He was right. Emma wrapped her hand around his and they jumped into the vault together, their feet hitting the cold floor at the exact same time._

_It was pitch black down there, the only light coming from the hole above them. Emma waved her hand and a small ball of fire appeared dancing above her palm. In the faint glow, she made out the shape of familiar looking lanterns on the wall. Another wave of her wrist and every lantern was lit and the corridor, which she could now see was made of stone, was a dull orange._

_“Nice work,” Hook commented, clearly impressed and looking down both ways of the corridor. “Only question is, which way should we be going?”_

_Emma focussed, blocked him out for a moment and concentrated on each path. Both had the faint hum of magic, but the one to her right was stronger, louder. It felt like it was covered in thorns; the magic was poking her, cutting at her. It was wrong._

_“This way,” she said, pointing to the right. “The dagger’s that way.”_

_“Are you sure?” he asked._

_“I can feel it,” she said, pushing past him to march towards it. The magic was making her too uncomfortable, nausea growing in her stomach, and all she wanted to do was get it over with._

_“How does that work exactly?” Hook asked, stepping in pace with her. “This sensing magic stuff?”_

_“Well,” Emma sighed. “I’m the product of my parent’s true love, which is the strongest magic of all.” She noticed Hook roll his eyes slightly but didn’t correct him. To be frank, she was hardly sold on this “true love is magic” business, romantic true love anyways. Her bond with her son and father was true magic to her. “And when the curse was to be cast, I was going to be the Saviour. And that made my magic stronger. And Merlin said that strong magic users can sense magic when it’s near. Light and dark.”_

_“Ah,” Hook nodded. “Like how a sailor knows when a storm’s brewing?” Emma wrinkled her nose._

_“I suppose,” she considered. “Can you tell when a storm is coming just by looking at the sky?”_

_“Can’t every sailor worth his salt?” he replied, a proud smile on his face. “That’s quite a gift then. To feel magic.”_

_“I guess,” she said. “My parents didn’t want me to rely on just magic though. That’s why I have this.” She tapped the hilt of her sword._

_“And that brain of yours,” he remarked casually. Emma didn’t stop the proud smile from creeping onto her face._

_They kept walking, for how long Emma didn’t know; it was so easy to lose track of time down there. All she had to go on was the unpleasantness crawling all over her skin like spiders and eventually, the light at the end of the corridor. When they got closer, they could see a stone podium, the dagger suspended inside a cage of swirling black iron bars that reached up to the ceiling._

_“So, how do we do this?” Emma asked. “How do we know it’s not booby trapped, what if one of us touches it and explodes?”_

_“Well,” Hook said, scratching the corner of his mouth. “Only one way to find out.” Emma almost didn’t realise what he was doing until he was already at the podium._

_“Hook!” she called out, marching up to him, but still keeping a bit of distance. “Hook, what the hell?”_

_“No harm, no foul,” he said, before reaching in and grabbing the hilt of the dagger. Emma could see the strain in his face as he pulled it out, the tension in his arm. Emma stood half in shock as he slowly pulled the dagger out, gasping with the effort. When he had it in his grasp, he almost looked disappointed._

_“Well there you go,” he said. “No harm do-” He was interrupted when a vine shot from the wall and wrapped itself tightly around his left wrist. “Well sh-”_

_“Hook!” Emma called out, pulling out her sword as another vine wrapped around his stomach. There was uneasiness on his face, but his eyes moved to the dagger and then to her, and his mouth set in a thin line._

_“Emma!” he called. He pulled back the arm holding the dagger and threw it. It landed at her feet, the engraved word “Rumpelstiltskin” staring up at her, the silver gleaming. “Emma get out of there.”_

_“What?” she asked, flinching when Hook was dragged against the wall, a cry of pain escaping him._

_“Take the bloody dagger and go!” he told her. Emma lifted the dagger. She could get this back to her family, somehow, and all their troubles would be behind them._

_Then she looked up at Hook, seeing a vine wrap around his neck and begin to choke him. In a split second she made up her mind. Dagger in hand, she ran up to him, seeing him gasping for air, his face going pale._

_“Emma…. Go….” he wheezed. “Just go.”_

_“No,” she said firmly. “Not without you, Captain.” She tried to slice through the vines with the dagger, but it was like cutting rocks. The one around his neck wouldn’t break, nor would the ones around his mouth. She still heard his muffled protests, saw in his eyes that he was begging her to leave. She shook her head at him._

_With brute force out of the question, she was forced to turn to the only other resource she had; her magic. She remembered not too long ago, when Merlin began tutoring her on the defensive styles of magic, he told her that this magic, more than any other style of magic, was not an intellectual piece of work; it was emotional. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he had asked her. ‘Who do you want to protect?’_

_She pulled the magic form inside her, willing it to take her out of there, take Hook with her._

_For a moment, she was completely weightless._

_The next moment, her feet were on the grass. She opened her eyes and saw her and Hook standing outside the vault. He was gasping for air, his eyes wide. The way he was looking at her made Emma half expect him to get down on his knees for her and beg her forgiveness._

_Well, he may have done. Emma would never know because she slapped him across the face._

_“I deserved that,” he admitted. Emma wanted to remain angry at him, but that admission and the guilt in his eyes was making that difficult for her. “I should have listened to you. Although….” And he was back. “I did tell you to run.”_

_“And leave you to die?” she asked. “No.”_

_“Then, thank you,” he said sincerely. “For saving my life.” He extended his hand towards her and she took it. His hand was soft, his rings cool against her skin. His eyes were like an open window into him, there were no tricks, no hidden trick. He gave her a soft smile and her hand a light squeeze._

_“It was the honourable thing to do,” she said. “Now let’s go home.”_

                                                                                                                *****

Emma kept waiting for her and Patrick’s pizza date. The days after they agreed on it she eagerly waited for Sunday to arrive, going to bed each night with a smile on her face, knowing it was one day closer to seeing Killian again. She even looked over all the available pizza toppings. Jenny was very little help in that regard, pizza had been a rare treat when her parents had been alive and was entirely absent since then. She couldn’t even recall a favourite flavour.

Jenny’s memories didn’t have “parents” as such. They had voices telling her to slow down, take care, they loved her, had the feeling of a hug and a steady hand on her elbow when she was learning to ride a bike and running through her hair, but she couldn’t put a face to them if she tried, and while she was cursed she simply never questioned it.

How many years had she been cursed, she wondered. She had no way of knowing since she woke up, no-one aged in this town, not even Henry. The only person who might be able to tell her was trapped thinking he was a high school English teacher.

When Sunday rolled around, Patrick chased her down outside Granny’s, only to tell her he couldn’t make it that night, his manager was making him work an extra shift.

“Next week, right?” he asked with a hopeful smile on his face.

“Of course,” she smiled back. She waited this long, what was one extra week?

Except one week turned into two. Then three. Then four. He worked, she worked, he worked, she worked. Like clockwork they fell into a routine of “I’m sorry, it’s okay, I get it, next week?” before going their separate ways.

This was the Queen’s method of torture. This curse meant she didn’t need her fireballs or swords or her knights with their maces to hit Emma where it would hurt. She could just keep doing this to Emma, pushing him towards then pulling him away from her, like dangling a shiny necklace in front of a dog before pulling it away, just like she used to with Wilby.

“Congratulations your Majesty,” she whispered, feeling defeated. “You win.”

                                                                                                     *****

_Emma rested the majority of the journey home. The cloaking spell took quite a toll on her. Hook gave her full access to the Captain’s quarters and anything in them, where she slept and read most of the day, going through books about sea creatures and the stars and old nautical legends. It was gripping stuff, and every day Hook would enter to find her almost at the end of another volume. They’d chat about whichever one she was reading that day, he’d tell her something related to it; one day it was about how he used to keep a black cat on the ship because it was considered lucky, one day it was about how he doubted a certain sea creature was even real._

_“Where did you get all these books?” she asked him. “Wait, do you raid book shops?” He chuckled, but it was half-hearted, a pain in his eyes when he looked at the shelf._

_“Just over the years I acquired them,” he mumbled. “Different situations, different places. Most of them I got in the Navy.”_

_“You were in the Navy?” Emma asked in a low voice._

_“Not your father’s Navy I can assure you,” he told her. “Another kingdom.”_

_“Oh,” was Emma’s response. Silence fell between them, making the both of them uncomfortable. Of course, Emma wanted to ask what had happened there, but she kept her mouth shut. She had known this man for not even two weeks and had no business prying into the most private parts of his life. Not that she would ever want to. She had no curiosity about what caused his eyes to look so haunted, caused this brash and arrogant pirate captain to look so broken. Or what caused him to rebel in the first place._

_“The king was corrupt and immoral,” he said in a low voice. “He sent me and my crew on a mission to retrieve a deadly poison. We were none the wiser.” His eyes met hers and neither looked away. “You seemed curious.” So, there was her answer, he was a pirate because he wouldn’t help his King kill. And he had helped her._

_“Never took you for a hero, Hook,” she whispered._

_“I’m not,” he replied bitterly, looking at the ground. Emma’s eyes went to the wall behind him, desperate to avoid looking at him. A grime-stained mirror, a faded picture of a ship, a table with a basin and cloth she had used several times during this trip, shelves containing nothing. Had that mirror ever been cleaned, had those shelves once held books? “Or have you forgotten why I agreed to this?” He got up and left, presumably to see to the steering of the ship. She was left alone in the cabin, listening to the lapping waves and creaking wood as he made his way to the helm._

_‘Have you forgotten why I agreed to this’. For a while, she had. The money. That was what drew him to agreeing to this adventure. And according to him, that was all he was in this for._

And yet you told me to run _she thought._

                                                                                              *****

It was lashing rain outside, hitting aggressively against the windows. Given the thin walls of their cheap house and its shaky foundations, Emma found herself worrying that the windows were going to shatter, and break and she’d end up with pieces of jagged glass along the floor. She was curled up on their tiny sofa with Jonathan on the other side, closer to the door, both watching some film mindlessly. Jenny had no recollection of ever watching it, but Emma was slowly but surely falling in love with it. Some story about a tortured young boy getting to attend a new school where he could learn magic. Jonathan was incredibly interested in it, shushing her every time she so much as opened her mouth.

Whenever someone knocked on the door, he didn’t even budge.

“Why don’t I get that?” she asked sarcastically as she stood up.

“Well you’re on your feet,” Jonathan said, smiling sweetly. Emma rolled her eyes and made for the door. She was confused; they never had visitors aside from those people handing out pamphlets about animal shelters or church rebuilding projects or the new community garden, and even they didn’t come this late at night. And they had paid the rent, so it couldn’t have been their landlord. Emma made a mental note of the umbrella sitting an arm’s reach from the door, just in case.

She opened the door to find a drenched Patrick. His hair stuck to the side of his face, his blue jacket looked black, and he was trying, but failing, to disguise his shivering. And on his hand, with his prosthetic resting on top, was a pile of three pizzas.

“I know I should have called ahead, but I couldn’t pay my phone bill and it’s been cut,” he explained, shouting slightly over the rain. “But I owe you a pizza date. Having skipped so many of them.”

“Get in here,” she laughed. “They smell amazing.”

“Finest Storybrooke can offer,” he told her. “I got a plain cheese, vegetarian and a meat one.” Emma took them off him as he shrugged out of his wet jacket. She led him into the living room, which drew Jonathan’s attention from the film.

“We have pizza?” he asked, face lighting up.

“Courtesy of Patrick here,” Emma said. Jonathan looked up and gave him a small nod, a hint of a smile. When he looked to where Emma’s hand rested on his shoulder, she realised when that smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Anyway, shall we?” Patrick asked. “I’ll get the cutlery.”

“Who eats pizza with cutlery?” Jonathan asked, wrinkling his nose. Patrick nodded and sat himself on the floor, beside Emma’s place on the sofa. The smell when they opened the three pizza boxes was bordering on heavenly. They exchanged easy conversation and soft smiles as they ate. Emma’s hand lay on the side of the sofa, fingers itching to be ran through Patrick’s hair, her lips wanting to kiss his cheek, right on the dimple and then nestle into his chest, her head under his, his fingers dancing on her back.

She knew that wouldn’t happen. Not for a long, long while anyway.

But for now, she could pretend this was enough.

                                                                                                *****

_It was just coming to dawn when the Jolly Roger approached the shores of Misthaven, the sky tinged orange. Emma had slept most of the previous day to ready herself for seeing her family. In her satchel sat the Dark One’s dagger and she traced its outline in with her finger. When she touched it, she felt the way she did in the vault, her stomach turned, she felt small, sharp pricks on her fingertips._

_“Everything all right, your Highness?” Hook asked softly._

_“Fine,” she mumbled. “I just want to get this to my parents.”_

_“What is it you plan to do with it?” he asked, his voice light, too light for this type of conversation._

_“My parents have built a cage strong enough to hold him. The Blue fairy helped us. And we’ll summon him into the cage with this.” She tapped the satchel, wincing at the sharp pricks on her fingertips. Hook gave her a concerned look, and she ran down to the bow before he could ask her anything._

_She saw her family as soon as she came into view, standing at the dock. They must have been exhausted, up well before dawn. She assumed the naval patrols informed them of their return. Emma was sure Robert wasn’t even awake, stuck in that zombie like state of his he lived in an hour or so after he got out of bed. Henry would be different, of course. She would never know where he got it, but he tended to wake with the same energy as a small puppy. There had been many mornings she woke up to the feeling of his little knees digging into her as he bounced on her._

_As soon as Hook got the ship docked, Emma wasted no more time; she sprinted down the gangplank and barrelled into her father’s arms, into the welcome feeling of home._

_“I missed you so much,” she sighed, closing her eyes and nuzzling into her father’s shoulder while he stroked her hair._

_“The feeling was mutual,” he told her as she pulled away. “But we knew you were coming back.”_

_“We never doubted you for a second,” her mother assured her as she hugged her tightly.  “But you do have it?”_

_“Yes, I have it,” Emma laughed, tapping her satchel lightly.  She took a pause, pondering over what to say next. She supposed it was only fair to be completely honest. “And I owe a great deal of it to him.” She turned and saw Hook standing at the gangplank, toying with his hook. By the look on his face, he clearly didn’t expect her to attempt to give him the credit. He gave a small, quick smile before looking away, allowing her some more private moments with her family. So different from the man she met with at this same tavern weeks ago._

_“Pity you didn’t grow in my absence, Robert,” she teased, patting his head, his hair still messy from sleep. He poked his tongue out at her before she hugged him tightly, revelling in the comforting feel of his skinny shoulders and gangly arms._

_Henry, for whom patience was never a virtue, wrapped his arms around her waist as soon as she stepped away from Robert. He buried his face in her tunic; she felt his nose poking at her stomach. Feeling him in her arms again made her feel like a missing piece of her was slotting back into place. She lifted him up, allowed him to wrap his legs around her, and kissed his cheek, rubbing her nose against the spot her lips had touched._

_“I have so much to tell you,” he said. “Yesterday in the woods, I saw six birds and Robert let me play swords and-”_

_“Yes, we have a lot of catching up to do,” David interrupted before Henry could go any further. “But we should do it at home, where it’s more private.” His eyes moved to Emma’s satchel, concern clouding them. Emma didn’t blame him. The sooner the dagger was put away, and the Dark One with it, the better. “And Hook, come with us. You can take your reward there.”_

_“Know what?” Hook asked, sauntering towards them. “Keep it. Knowing the Dark One will be suffering is reward enough for me.” Emma frowned, remembering how his eyes lit up when she promised the reward of jewels._

_“Really?” she asked._

_“Come now, Hook. Helping to save our kingdom is surely worth some reward,” Snow said. He shook his head, a thin smile on his face._

_“Keep your treasures, your Majesties, I’m not in need of them,” he said. A few moments of silence passed; her parents gave each other uncertain looks, while she kept looking at Hook. He was smiling, but it was too small, too thin to be sincere. He wasn’t upset though._

_“If you’re sure,” her father said. “Then let us offer you our most sincere thanks for helping us. And for returning our daughter home safely.”_

_“Don’t think she needed my help in that regard,” he replied. Emma willed herself not to blush, because she did not blush. Certainly not for men she knew for two weeks._

_“And the reward is still on the table if you want it,” Snow said. He nodded at her, but both he and Emma knew he wouldn’t come back for it._

_“Come then, let’s go home,” Charming said. “Emma can tell us all about her adventure. And you’re welcome to come too, Hook.”_

_“Thank you, but I have a life to get back to.” Her father’s expression darkened at that. A pirate’s life, a dishonourable one. That was what he thought anyway._

_“If you say so. Come on, let’s go.”_

_“I’ll meet you there,” Emma said. “Just let me say goodbye to him. Alone.” While Snow nodded and began to walk back, David remained unconvinced. Snow said something to him that Emma didn’t manage to catch, and he let his wife lead him back up the road, taking Robert and a slightly unwilling Henry with them._

_“Didn’t think you’d grown fond of me, your Highness,” he joked. Part of Emma wanted to come back with an ‘I haven’t’. And yet, she didn’t._

_“What are you going to do now?” she asked, not completely knowing herself why she was asking. “Go back to your old life, pillaging and plundering and drinking?” He looked at the ground, took a step closer to her. His eyes were torn, his expression nervous._

_“I don’t think I will, actually,” he confessed, his voice strained and thin. When he looked up at her, his eyes held no tricks, no deception, no hope of her letting him go and believing the best of him._

_“Why not?” she asked, fighting the smile on her face. He smiled at her._

_“Well…. Playing the hero with you made me realise that I missed being one myself,” he mumbled, scratching behind his ear. “Made me realise that being a villain is never what I set out to do. Helping people, that’s what I used to do.”_

_“I thought the infamous Captain Hook didn’t care about anyone but himself,” Emma replied, half teasing._

_“Maybe I just needed reminding that I could.”_

_Emma was surprised, to say the least. She had started to write off whatever she thought was underneath the surface as just her silly imagination, a wilful fantasy. She had never been glad to be proven wrong before._

_“So, then you’re giving up pirating?” she asked._

_“You could say I’m modifying it. I’ll take my ship and keep sailing but I’ll live honourably. I hope my crew will follow me but if they won’t then they can take their dishonourable lives off my ship.”_

_“I don’t think they’ll appreciate that.”_

_“Then I’ll have more room on my ship for the honest men.” Emma chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear._

_“Will I ever see you again?” she asked._

_“I don’t know,” he answered. “Big realm, big ocean.” Emma was upset by that answer and didn’t quite know why. “But it can also be a rather small world and I am fond of that tavern.” He stepped towards her again, leaving almost no space between them. He was an unfairly handsome man. She would have thought too handsome for a man of his lifestyle, but now she wasn’t so sure. “Until we meet again, Princess Emma.” He outstretched his hand and she took it; the warmth of his skin and the cool metal of his rings a welcome sensation._

_“Until we meet again, Killian.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Emma works to reunite two separated True Loves. In the Enchanted Forest, a new solider shows up to aid Dun Broch in the war, and catches the eye of Princess Merida  
> Leave comments to feed my ego.


	7. Chapter 7

_It had been four days since Merida’s arrival at the front and yet the atmosphere remained as grim as the day she first came. She had kept tried to lift everyone’s spirits, but that had never been her strong suit. Any of the triplets would have been more suited to the task. As much as she thought them to be “little terrors” they certainly brought a smile to her face, and gods, did she and the rest of Dun Broch’s army need one._

_The front was eerily quiet; the only sounds were the constant wind and low voices of the soldiers. They moved softly, silently, as though they were already on the battlefield, avoiding enemy arrows or swords. She had even heard rumours of the enemy having guns at their disposal, which sent a shudder down her back. She knew some kingdoms had already advanced far enough to have canons and guns, from what she heard Arendelle was at that point and Misthaven not close behind. Dun Broch however, remained traditional, and was struggling to catch up to the rest of the Enchanted Forest. And as skilled an archer as she and her fellow soldiers were, she knew arrows were no match for bullets._

_Merida was sitting on the table outside her father’s tent, her feet on the chair, balancing it on two legs. The tent was meant to be hers too, but she wouldn’t hear of it. It wasn’t just her image (although she did know that no one would take her seriously if she was sleeping on her soft mattress and thick blankets from her castle every night while they struggled on their piles of straw), but also her own sense of self-discipline. She might be a princess, heir to the throne, but she was a solider too, and soldiers had to learn to deal with discomfort._

_A few feet away, she saw Aila, a girl not too much younger than herself, but too young to be in an army. The girl Merida had given her blankets from home to the first night she was here. She thought Aila would find them more useful than she would anyway._

_Her father emerged from the tent, his face unreadable. He raised an eyebrow at her position on the table but didn’t scold or tell her to move. Instead he leaned on the table and brushed her hair behind her ear._

_“You don’t have to fight, my darling,” he said hoarsely. “I could send you home.” He chuckled softly. “Dun Broch hasn’t executed a deserter in over a hundred years.” It was true; deserters were actually treated far better now than they used to; they were given six months pay to help them support themselves._

_“Over my dead body,” she said flatly. If her mother was unable to change her mind about joining the army, her father didn’t stand a chance. “I’m not leaving these people and there’s nothing you or Mum can say to change my mind.”_

_“I know, but I saw no harm in trying,” he said. His gaze moved past Merida, to the road behind her. She turned to see what he was looking at and saw a horse and rider coming steadily towards them. Her heart seized for a moment, foolishly expecting it to be a messenger saying a town in Dun Broch had been raided and the people killed, but her father’s smile at the sight calmed her._

_“We’re expecting company?” she asked._

_“Indeed.” He began walking towards the horse and she followed. “She has a reputation as one of the most skilled warriors in the Enchanted Forest. And for a hefty price, she’s agreed to help us in our effort. She was in general Li Shang’s army against the huns and led them to victory.”_

_“Li Shang…. This is Mulan,” Merida gasped. “Mulan, the Mulan, the legendary Mulan! Dad why didn’t you tell me?”_

_“I didn’t think you were a fan,” he chuckled. As she dismounted her horse, Merida pressed her hands behind her back and bit the inside of her cheek. The heir to the throne of Dun Broch couldn’t be seen gushing over a diplomatic visitor like this._

_Even if said visitor happened to have a sword strong enough to cut stone, or so the legend said._

_“Fa Mulan,” her father greeted when she met them. “We’re grateful to have you here. May I introduce my daughter, Princess Merida, our heir.”_

_Merida expected Fa Mulan to be many things; fearsome, terrifying, formidable. That was what she had read about. None of the legends told about her beauty. Her dark brown eyes sparkled, even on a day as dark as this, long, soft looking black hair held back in a braid with light brown streaks running through it, soft brown skin and pink lips._

_“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, a small smile gracing her already lovely face. “Your Highness.” She made a small bow, just low enough to show respect but still look at Merida’s face._

_“I feel like I should bow to you,” Merida said. “I’ve read so many legends about you, I can’t believe you’re here.”_

_“Well your father did make me an offer I can’t refuse,” she said. “And he tells me you’re good with a bow and arrow.”_

_“I’m all right,” she replied. Her father huffed a laugh beside her. Modesty had never been Merida’s strong suit._

_“How are you with a sword?” she asked._

_“Less all right,” Merida joked, wrinkling her nose._

_“Well the, I could make it my mission to teach you,” she said. “A true warrior should be skilled in any weapon.”_

_“Why don’t I show you to your tent?” her father said. “Then we can discuss our strategy for the upcoming battle.”_

_“Of course.” Mulan took her horse by the reins and followed her father while Merida stood where she was, her heart beating slightly faster than normal. She touched her fingers to her cheek and found it unusually warm. She didn’t need a mirror to know that her face was the same colour as her hair._

                                                                                                ******

The curse didn’t seem to do much modification to Merida’s personality in Emma’s view. When she was on her way back from the grocery store, her arms aching with the effort of taking two bags home, she saw Merida, or rather, Merida’s cursed self, sitting on a bench at a bus stop, legs folded underneath her (Merida never had quite learned the art of sitting like a “lady”; even at the dinner table or lessons she’d sit with her legs crossed or folded as though she was on the floor), scowling at the road, her arms rigid, her hands gripping her knees intensely. Emma was sure she had almost seen an identical scene with Merida on the wall of the Dun Broch castle.

She couldn’t put a name to Merida’s cursed persona. It seemed Jenny had never known her. Jenny never seemed to have the time for friends.

Emma found herself reluctant to approach her, which was absurd. This was one of her closest friends. Well, she was, and she wasn’t. Anyway, Merida was never the one she needed to try to open up. It had always been Merida flinging herself onto the ground and pouring her frustrations out to Emma.

“Take a picture,” Not Merida spat at her. “It’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” Emma said. “I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just-you look upset.”

“And what’s that to you?” she grumbled. Emma took a chance and crept closer.

_Because I’m apparently the Saviour who is meant to bring back your happiness_ she thought.

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be upset,” she said instead, and that was true as well. “So, what is it?”

“Nothing,” she sighed. “Nothing important.” Emma nodded and pursed her lips. “Nothing you can fix.”

“That bad?” she asked, noticing the redness around her eyes. Merida _never_ cried. Maybe this curse version of her did. Or maybe whatever the Queen was doing to her had pushed her over that cliff. She nodded, closing her eyes tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she sighed. “My parents.” Emma nodded but she was shocked. She should have known that the curse would change the people she knew, but Elinor and Fergus would never be able to do this to Merida. Yes, Elinor was fussy about her daughter’s attitudes, but they had learned never upset her. Not to this extent anyway.

“Oh,” she whispered. “You fought?”

“Not sure I’d call it a fight,” she replied. “More of a verbal lashing.” Emma wanted to grab her hand and tell her she’d be fine, instead her hand remained wrapped around the strap of her grocery bag. “Just waiting to earn enough money to leave them.” Not Merida shook her head and smoothed her hair, which was held back in a ponytail. Or more accurately, she was making an attempt to hold it back. “Let’s just say they aren’t exactly thrilled with my dating choices.”

“This is all over a boyfriend?” Emma echoed, wrinkling her nose. She shook her head.

“Not a boyfriend…”

It took Emma a few seconds to understand properly. While in the Enchanted Forest, love had known no gender, she knew from Jenny’s mind than in this world, people looked down on those who loved the same gender. She had learned all kinds of words; bisexual, which would describe herself and Belle and Red, and gay, which would describe Merida. And other, worse words, like homophobia. And how some saw being gay, loving the same gender, as being considered wrong.

“Oh, I’m…. That’s awful,” Emma sighed. “I mean, that… it’s just awful.”

She turned and took a proper look at Emma, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Why are you talking to me?”

Emma couldn’t seem to think of an answer. She struggled to find words for a while, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not-Merida cracked a smile.

“Well thank you. For caring about me.” She stood up and took one of Emma’s bags for her. “After that the least I can do is carry one of these for you.”

“You don’t have to do that….”

“Don’t be daft, after you listening to me pour my heart out, I owe you.” Emma smiled and let her take the bag. “Better than going right back to my parent’s house.” She visibly winced and Emma’s heart went out to her. She decided to forget everything else, getting Merida some kind of a happy ending was what she needed to accomplish next. Which would involve finding the cursed Mulan.

“I’m Jenny, by the way,” she said as they made their way down the street.

“Clover,” she responded.

                                                                                                                ******

_Mulan found the princess sitting in her tent, one she shared with many other soldiers from the Dun Broch. She was sat on the bottom of her bunk, fiddling with a bundle of papers tied together with some string. The princess was as beautiful as the rumours suggested-fiery, wild red hair a compliment to her green eyes, that somehow managed to sparkle even on the brink of a war. Mulan hadn’t decided if she was naïve or brave or both. Her face was delicate, her body not so much, strong muscles in her arms. It wasn’t just her beauty, there was a strength inside her that drew Mulan to her. A warrior. Of course, she had heard tell of the Princess of Dun Broch who won her own hand and challenged all three of her suitors. To meet her was something else entirely. She seemed to be lost in her own mind, her fingers tracing the outside of the letters._

_“I was looking for you, Princess,” she said softly when she reached her. If she startled her, Merida certainly did not show it. “I was hoping to spend time alone with you.”_

_“Me?” she chuckled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Not my father.”_

_“I’m sure your father is a wonderful man, but I have had enough of him for a day,” she responded. “And I would like to talk to you. If that’s all the same to you.”_

_“Well,” she said, jumping up. “I was about to go deliver these letters to the messenger at the front. Care for a walk, Mulan?”_

_“Sounds lovely.” Merida led her out of the tent, stepping over soldier’s feet, into the warm summer evening. They kept walking along the hill, their breathing filling in the tense silence. Not strolling, strolling was for people who knew that tomorrow was coming. “What are those?”_

_“Letters to home. The men and women in there, they write them for parents, children…. Sweethearts. Saying goodbye,” she whispered. Merida hugged the letters closer to her chest, her hand covering all of them. “I told them I’d take them to the messenger myself. No point everyone making the journey.”_

_“That’s kind of you to do that.”_

_“I suppose.” They kept walking, Mulan toying with her cloak. Not even the birds were singing. “Do you have anything you want sent home?”_

_“For that there’d have to be people at home for me,” Mulan replied, her voice catching. Or even a home to send anything to, she thought. Home used to be a house by a river with her grandmother and parents, used to be warm tea and a sharp but loving voice. Then she went to war and came home to ruin._

_“I’m sorry,” Merida said softly. Mulan shrugged._

_“Not your fault.”_

_“Well, maybe you can find a new home,” Merida whispered. Mulan found herself with a smile, however small, on her face. A new home wasn’t something she had thought much about, moving from place to place, army to army, kingdom to kingdom. As far as she was concerned, home was whatever bunk she was taking for the night._

_“Maybe,” she replied softly. “We should just focus on winning this war for now.” She pulled her hair back into a makeshift, hurried braid. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The war.”_

_“Like I need reminding of it,” Merida joked._

_“I know. But I was thinking about our first meeting…” Well, that was an understatement. The first time she met Merida was never far from Mulan’s mind. It was always replaying in the back of her mind; she thought hard about the small details such as the dimples in the princess’ cheeks when she smiled. “I meant what I said about teaching you how to use a sword.”_

_Merida’s cheeks began to turn a light shade of pink, but her eyes lit up like a child on their birthday, her hands poised to grab the hilt of the first sword she could find._

_“Really?” she asked, slightly breathless already. Mulan had to smile at her. She found it hard not to smile in her presence._

_“Of course. I can teach you how to fight better than anyone in your army…. If that’s what you want.” Merida nodded enthusiastically, her red curls bopping with her._

_“Yes! When can we start?”_

_“Meet me here tomorrow, just after dawn. I’ll be here with a sword. I hope you’re ready for a full day.”_

_Of course, she was only doing this to help Merida acquire more skills. Strengthen the army. Build the war effort._

_Not because she wanted to be around her. Not because all she had thought about since arriving was when she’d next see her. That would be ridiculous._

_And she was never ridiculous._

                                                                                                ******

Emma had been thinking about Clover almost every minute since their encounter. She had learned from her previous, painful attempt at getting Red and Belle back together that it wouldn’t be that simple. Where Belle had been under the control of her dominating husband, Merida was being forced to deal with close-minded parents.

She shuddered at the thought of Elinor and Fergus, the warmest people she had ever met, one of the fairest and most just King and Queen she had come across, thinking there was something wrong with their own daughter because she loved a woman. Fergus had been thrilled when Merida announced she’d chosen Mulan as a suitor. Yes, it took some revision of the Ancient Laws, but not only was Mulan a worthy partner in the sense that she was a better general than Fergus himself and the finest warrior in the land, but only she could make Merida blush, just by touching her hand to Merida’s, she was one of the few people able to calm Merida down and make her see sense, she was the one who would accompany Merida on her wild early morning horseback rides willingly.

She was also the only one who Merida would share her pastries with. If that wasn’t love, Emma didn’t know what love is.

She couldn’t just set them up a Granny’s and risk them being spotted by Clover’s parents-or pretty much anyone. This was going to require a lot more care than her previous attempt had put into it.

It was also going to require actually finding the cursed Mulan. Which was going to be difficult enough as it was, but she had to wait until late evening when she got off her shift.

Her 7 hours at Granny had provided her with some thinking time. The curse seemed to have two ways of hurting it’s victims. On the one hand, it had placed Belle with the person she feared most, Rumpelstiltskin, Henry with someone he feared, the Evil Queen. Yet on the other hand, Emma and her brother were kept together, as were Red and Granny. However, this was fortunately easier; Mulan didn’t have anyone apart from Merida. She had told them about how her family was long gone and Merida was her family now. So, it wouldn’t do to look for someone Mulan had loved, she had to look for someone she had hated or feared. And Mulan was fearless, but she had made her fair share of enemies. And Emma had some idea of where to look….

After clocking off, Emma, rather than head back to her place, sent Jonathan a quick text about how she was going to be late, and head off in the direction of the high street stores. She had passed them many times when running errands and had memories of Jenny looking wistfully at the clothes inside, telling herself one day she’ll treat herself. One day when there’s money to spare in the budget. Wedged in the middle of the shops was a small clothing boutique, selling dresses for brides and bridesmaids and flower girls.

Sure enough, when Jenny stepped inside, there was the cursed Mulan standing at the counter; her hair swept into a bun, spectacles on her face, wearing a white shirt and short grey dress, drumming a pencil on the white table and frowning.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, but it was still enough to make her jump. Not-Mulan took a few moments to gather herself.

“How can I help you?” she asked, her voice just too high to be sincere. “What are you looking for? Bride, guest, bridesmaid?”

“No, none of that,” Emma replied, realising how out of place she looked here in her uniform for Granny’s and her ratty blue hooded jacket. This place had a soft purple carpet, white walls decorated with miniature diamonds, gold racks of beautiful dresses, white-framed, full length mirrors. She didn’t belong in here. Well, in her old life she’d have belonged here. “I’m here because…. are you a friend of Clover’s?”

The question took her by surprise, Emma could tell. Her cheeks began to glow with the faintest shade of pink and, for the first time since she had met her, she struggled to find words.

“Did she send you here?” she asked, a tremble in her voice.

“No, nothing like that, I just… I was looking for you.”

“Are you Clover’s friend?”

“You could say that. I was just talking to her yesterday and she seemed a little upset. And I thought…”

“You thought to find me,” she sighed. “Clover and I… we’re nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Clover didn’t seem like it was nothing,” Emma replied. “I’m not with her parents, if that’s what your worried about.” Not-Mulan’s shoulders dropped slightly as the tension left them, a breath leaving her body in a sigh of relief.

“Look, I don’t want to get Clover into more trouble than she’s already in. We tried to make it work. Saved each other under fake names in our contacts, met up when her parents were at work, but it always failed. Someone would see us, make a remark to her parents, just a drop-in conversation, and she’d get in trouble again,” she explained. “Who knows, maybe at some point down the line, we’ll meet again and it’ll be better. But not now.”

Emma wanted to tell her not to think like that, that she would see Clover again, but she held her tongue. This curse was stronger than she had first thought. Strong enough to keep Belle and Red apart, to keep her and Killian apart, to keep her own parents apart. She shouldn’t be that naïve. Not after what she had seen happen to Red and Belle.

“I get it,” she muttered. She turned to leave, her brother would be starting to worry where she was.

“I’m Jia, by the way,” Not-Mulan called back, smiling slightly.

“Jenny,” she replied. With a nod, Jia returned to the paper on the desk, grimacing as she went through it all.

Before leaving the shop, something caught Jenny’s eye. A red jacket, short and fitted with long sleeves, sat on a hanger just at the door. She reached out to touch and found it made of soft leather. It reminded her of her jacket back home.

“Would you like me to ring that up for you?” Jia called over. Jenny looked back and shook her head sadly.

“On my salary?” she asked dryly, making Jia laugh.

“I could always put one away for you,” she offered. “In case you change your mind or Granny’s receives a boost in guests.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I can manage. Don’t really want it that much anyway.”

She was lying. Emma wanted the jacket. She had always had an affection for the colour red and this jacket did look so much like her old riding jacket. And she knew it would look nice on her, and with how cold this town could get she might need a good sturdy jacket. And while she never dressed for men, Killian would like it on her. Her mother would tell her how much it flattered her and her father would tell her she looked perfect.

Saviour duties, much like royal duties, had to come first though. She headed off home, home to her brother and to helping with homework and sorting through bills and breaking the curse, leaving the jacket hanging on the rail.

                                                                                                ******

_“One! Two! Three! Four!” Mulan called as she and Merida sparred, block, parry, jab, block, parry, jab, in the middle of an open stretch of ground a good walk from their camp. Mulan had woken her just after dawn, telling her to meet her at the entrance as soon as possible. Once there, she handed her some bread she had swiped from the table and led her down here._

_“I think I’m getting better at this,” Merida commented after almost besting Mulan._

_“You are,” Mulan told her. “You did almost hit me that time. Maybe one day you’ll land one.” Merida grinned. She never backed down from a challenge._

_“Maybe I will,” she replied. “Maybe that’ll be today.” Mulan barely had time to get back into position before Merida swung her sword at her. Nevertheless, she blocked it with ease, a laugh escaping her._

_“You should learn subtlety,” she remarked, moving to jab Merida. She managed to block her, which did impress Mulan. “A great skill on the battlefield.”_

_“Maybe you can teach me after this,” she offered, slightly out of breath, moving quickly to block another blow from Mulan, but a smile still on her face. “I think you could be training all the army, never mind just me.”_

_They kept sparring, Merida developing a rhythm, Mulan taking note of her weak spots. She was enthusiastic, there was no doubt, but that made her reckless, made her through caution to the wind, left her open. She was all attack, no defence._

_And yet that drew her to her. Merida was as wild as her hair; even in a time as dark as this, in a place where she had to remain controlled, there was something in the way she moved that let her see the free spirit inside her; long strides and a quick pace and bouncing before she stopped, a laugh in her voice, a sharp tongue, a quick smile and flash in her eyes, red curls seeming to have a life of their own._

_Mulan was fascinated by her. She wondered what her life would have been like if their paths had crossed earlier. Even being around Merida made her happier, hopeful even. As if she had found something worth living for for the first time in a long, long while. Someone who made her think her life could be about more than waiting for the next war._

_“What will you do when it’s over?” Merida asked, her voice raised to be audible over the clash of blades. “When we’ve won?”_

_“I…” she began. Her voice trailed off, her movements becoming slower as she let her body take over while her mind pondered the question Merida had asked her. She had thought she’d keep travelling but things were different now. Or at least in her mind they were. She had never met someone who made her want to stay._

_But Dun Broch wasn’t her home._

Yet _a voice in the back of her mind told her._

_“I’m not sure,” she confessed, hoping her pause hadn’t made Merida curious. “Maybe we should focus on winning first.”_

_“With you here of course we will,” she grunted. Her feet started slipping as Mulan applied more pressure to her sword. “There’s no person with better skill than you.”_

_“Flattery,” Mulan quipped. “Is the very basic of tools. I’m surprised your Highness. I did think you were better than that.”_

_Merida’s eyes sparkled, and Mulan’s heart raced. A challenge._

_Merida swung her sword up and back swiftly; Mulan just about blocked it. Merida laughed as she continued to push Mulan back across the field one clash of swords at a time. It wasn’t a total improvement on Merida’s part; there were still times she narrowly stopped Mulan from hitting her, some from chance, some from the quick thinking she was blessed with._

_“Keep your eye on the blade,” Mulan reminded her, slightly breathless and not just from the sparring. “You’re quick but you need to be sharp too.”_

_“Is that a pun?” Merida asked, making Mulan giggle. Damn it, now she was giggling._

_“Of course not,” she said. “I don’t like puns.”_

_“Oh, spend a week with my family then,” Merida said. “My dad would drive you round the bend.” The focus then went to the fight, Mulan beginning to put up more of a challenge and Merida responding in kind. “You know, I think you should stay in Dun Broch for a while after the war.”_

_For once in her life, Mulan was caught off guard. She even tried to let her body take over the fight for her, but every nerve in her was fizzing. She was breathless before but now she was almost gasping for air, her cheeks growing warmer as a pink shade spread across them. As a result, her movements became sloppier, slower. She should have looked at the blade, but all she could look at was Merida, hear her words replaying in her mind._

_The sword clattered from her hands after a hard blow from Merida and fell to the ground. She looked at it, breathless, not wanting to look anywhere else. Certainly not at Merida, from whom she could feel the strange look, the confusion. Her cheeks only grew redder._

_“Mulan?” she said in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- do you not want to come home with me? It was only a suggestion…”_

_“No,” she said sharply. “I mean yes.” When Mulan looked up at Merida, she saw how puzzled she was, but also a small glint of pain in her eye. “Merida I would love to go back to Dun Broch with you.”_

_“You would?” she asked, beginning to smile._

_“So much,” she replied, half laughing, pushing her hair out of her face. Merida laughed too, quickly, breathlessly, before looking down at Mulan’s discarded sword._

_“You took your eye off the blade,” she remarked, her voice quiet._

_“Maybe…. I was looking at something else,” Mulan said. Merida looked up at her, green eyes alight. Mulan was trembling now, and it had nothing to do with the fight, the war, or anything. This was something she had shoved down and kept out of sight and out of mind until now. Until Merida._

_Merida took a step forward and closed the gap between them almost entirely. Her hand, rough from archery and hand to hand combat, closed over her gloved one, but their skin may as well have been touching, for Mulan felt like she was on fire. She bit her lip to try to suppress the growing smile on her face, but it was no use. She placed one hand on Merida’s hip and pulled her ever closer until their breaths mingled. Mulan let her eyes close as Merida drew her lips towards her…._

_“Mulan, Princess Merida!” a gruff voice called, causing the spell they had both cast over each other to be broken. Merida jumped away from Mulan, offering her a weak smile as an attempted form of explanation. Mulan shook her head, returning the smile. After all, she was a soldier._

_Moments later, too little time for either one to try to talk about what had just passed between them, MacIntosh came running over the hill, his face as red as his tartan kilt. There was wild fear in his eyes, a startling contrast to the arrogant but funny man Mulan had met, the man who tried to lift the spirits of the camp as often as possible._

_“MacIntosh what is it?” Merida asked, making no effort to conceal her panic._

_“The… the scouts,” he panted. “The enemy was spotted a day’s ride from here. They expect to attack tomorrow. We’re going to war tomorrow.”_

                                                                                                *******

Emma grew to enjoy her Wednesdays, for one particular reason. Jonathan went into school early, and her shift at the diner didn’t start until one. Which meant she all over four glorious hours to do absolutely nothing. Do nothing but sit down, rest her weary limbs, mentally prepare herself for the day ahead (waiting tables, she had discovered, was rather difficult. And stressful. She made it a mental note to talk to her parents about raising their servant’s wages) and mull over her plan (if she could call it that) for breaking the curse.

After seeing her brother off on the bus, Emma headed for the docks. The sight of the sea cleared her mind, reminding her of old trips to the Misthaven docks with Killian, sitting on the wood in her shortest, lightest dress, the hot sun on her skin, her hair cascading down her back, Killian pressing kisses to her neck and rubbing her shoulders while she vented about her work and the expectations of princesshood, looking out to the shimmering blue expanse in front of her, just about making out the shape of Dun Broch on the horizon.

For now, she had to settle for a damp bench, the cold from last night’s rain seeping through her jeans and onto her skin, looking out at a grey sky and a greyer sea, the smell of fish being brought in making her nose wrinkle, having an internal conversation with herself. But it was better than arguing with costumers or sitting in her room and scribbling on a notebook.

On the way here, she had passed Clover and her mother. Clover was trailing behind, scuffing her boots on the ground, her face invisible behind a heavy hood and her curls. Her mother strode ahead of her, but looked back at her, anguish, even guilt, crossing her face, before she turned her face away, a scowl setting onto her face.

A bag swung had been swinging from her hand-a bag from the boutique Emma had visited. Where Jia worked.

Emma put her head in her hands and pulled at her eyes, comically stretching her skin, blurring her vision.

“Well that’s a nice face,” a voice joked behind her. She didn’t even need to turn to see who it was. She’d always know his voice.

“Patrick,” she greeted, beginning to smile. She turned to face him; he wore a large rainproof coat, his hair perfectly mussed from the wind. “What brings you here?” He chuckled and held up a pole with a black claw attached to it, clapping the claw together for effect. “Ah, trash collection. Well, don’t let me distract you.”

“You already have,” he confessed, stepping closer to her. “What’s that face for?”

“Nothing,” she lied, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Trust me, it’s nothing.”

“You know, I don’t mean to pry, but I would have that face on if it was nothing.” He came and stood next to her bench and poked her with his stick. “Come on, Bird.”

_You wouldn’t believe me if I told,_ she thought sadly. He kept looking at her still, cocking his head to one side, a playful pout gracing his lips. She was so sure she had seen an identical expression on his face in the castle. Maybe he was coming back to her, maybe there was no curse strong enough to suppress her pirate.

“It’s my friend,” she confessed. “Her messed up, backwards parents aren’t letter her see her girlfriend. And it’s a less than ideal situation for her.”

“Ouch,” he winced. “There are some bigoted people in this world, aren’t there.”

“Damn right,” she sighed. “And now she’s miserable.”

“And you want to change that?”

“I mean, it would be nice,” she replied, shaking her head. He bit his lips, frowning slightly. “What is it?”

“I don’t understand you,” he confessed. “I mean, you put in all that effort to save me, now you’re looking miserable as sin because you can’t help your friend. Why?”

“Because... It’s the right thing to do,” she said. “Because I feel like if I’m happy and they’re not then I feel like that’s messed up.”

“You have a good sense of justice,” he remarked. “And that’s a wonderful quality to have. But maybe a break might be a good thing too.” Emma shook her head.

“Maybe once I’ve finished all this,” she sighed. Patrick gave a strained smile.

“Well if you ever need a reprieve from… ‘all this’ as you so put it, you can always come litter picking with me,” he said, clipping the claw of his stick again. “Cleanses the soul.”

“Somehow I do doubt that,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose.

“Well you get to see some lovely parts of the town,” he told her. “Just yesterday I was in a secluded, forgotten little area, not too far from here. Nice little place abandoned boat sheds that they kept race boats and stuff in back in the town’s heyday. Seems quite romantic, really. Like the kind of place two young lovers sneak out to every night.”

“That’s it,” Emma muttered, a light flickering on in her head. “Patrick, that’s it.”

“What’s it?” he asked.

“No one goes down to that place anymore? It’s deserted?”

“The odd gaggle of teens do down there for drinking, I’m sure your brother would never dare, but other than that, no one.” Emma jumped up, a smile on her face.

“When do you finish?”

“Six o’clock, why?”

“I finish at eight thirty. Do you think you can meet me here and show me that place?” she asked, her heart beginning to race. A radiant, hopeful smile broke out on his face.

“Of course, why….” As his voice trailed off, clarity coming into his eyes as he found his way to her page. “Your friend. You’re getting this for her.”

“Yeah, I mean I hope this can work out,” she said. Her heart clenched for a moment as she saw his face; his smile faltering. “You’ll help?”

“Well, why wouldn’t I?” he asked. He took another step towards her, a bemused look on his face. “I do think you’re one of the best people in this whole mess of a town, Bird.”

Emma was left breathless. Patrick was in so many ways, just like her Killian. He seemed to know what to say to make her smile, believed in her, kept going until she was happy.

She wanted to kiss him there and then. Instead she gave him another grin and watched as he picked up trash around the docks, an easy conversation flowing between the two of them.

                                                                                                *****

_Merida had thought about this day for years. Thought about the day she would finally ride out into battle, fight alongside her soldiers, fight for something important, earn a title and the respect of her subjects._

_She never imagined being quite so afraid. She hadn’t thought about how a lump would form in her throat, how she’d grow breathless just standing there, her hands trembling and cold. She stood in her father’s tent, hearing him and his advisors going over battle strategy but not quite receiving anything. Her father had spoken to her beforehand, knowing better than to tell her she could go home, he simply reminded her he loved her and what a skilled fighter she was. And to give her one last order. ‘Don’t die’._

_“Merida,” Mulan’s voice came from her side, unusually timid. She must have slipped away from the war table. “How are you feeling?”_

_“Good. Fine,” she lied. Mulan’s sad smile told her that she could see right through her. “Yourself?”_

_“I’ve been on the eve of a lot of battles. Too many to count, really. And that doesn’t make it any less terrifying,” she confessed. “It’s okay to admit you’re scared.”_

_Pride wouldn’t let Merida say the words, but she nodded. Mulan heard them, wrapped her fingers round Merida’s. Merida looked down when she felt her skin against hers and it dawned on her that this was the first time she had seen Mulan without gloves on._

_“May we take a walk outside? I think the fresh air will do you good,” she asked. After Merida gave a small nod, Mulan led her out of the tent. The air was fresher outside, but it was only a fraction easier to breathe out there. Yes, a more open space, not cluttered by the war council and filled with smoke form candles, but the anxiety was even higher out here. Men and women were clutching each other’s shoulders, eyes filled with tears they refused to shed. A sick, nauseating feeling began swirling in Merida’s stomach. The only thing keeping her from screaming was Mulan’s hand. She wove their fingers together, not wanting to let go._

_“I have faith in you,” Mulan said. “I’ve watched you train.”_

_“I’m only that good because of you,” she reminded her. Mulan’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. With her free hand, Merida stroked her cheek. “Thank you, Mulan. For coming here in the first place. For helping us.”_

_“It was the honourable thing to do,” she replied. “Merida, back then, yesterday, before we were interrupted, when we were training… you said something. You said that you would want me to stick around when all this is over…”_

_“I did,” she said. “You said something too. That you weren’t looking at the blade because you were looking at someone else.”_

Were you looking at me _she thought but wouldn’t dare say out loud._

Yes, _she heard from Mulan. Her eyes were wide as they looked at her, her lips parted, her hand letting go of Merida’s to cover the Princess’ other hand on her cheek._

_Merida had never been one for formalities. Word’s weren’t her strength anyway. She grabbed Mulan by the collar and pulled her into a kiss, rough and messy, Mulan’s hands in her hair, hesitant only for a second before melting into her._

_When she pulled away, Merida felt her cheeks on fire. Mulan’s eyes were bright, and she panted slightly, her mouth open, half in disbelief, half in excitement._

_“For luck,” she whispered. “For tomorrow.” Mulan smiled shyly, winding a lock of Merida’s hair around her finger, and kissed the corner of her mouth again._

_“For luck,” she echoed._

                                                                                                *********

Three nights later, Emma could finally put her plan into action. She had sent Jonathan with Patrick earlier to get Jia when the shop closed and make sure everything they needed was set up. Clover was her part.

She followed her gut for that part, and her gut led her to the same bench where she had met Clover the first night. She was proven right; on the bench, legs folded underneath her, hood drawn over her face with just a few strands of red curls peaking out from underneath, was Clover. Emma crept closer to her, quietly, dragging her feet slightly, like Clover was some sort of wild animal.

“Hi,” she said, just loud enough for her to hear. Clover jumped and pushed her hood away form her face, then pulling the black headphones down from her head. Her shoulders dropped when she saw who it was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, I thought you might be someone else,” she replied, digging her palms onto her knees. “Never mind.”

“Well, it’s just me,” she said. “And I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and wrinkling her nose. Emma swallowed a chuckle and nodded.

“Yep. And it’s a good one, I promise,” she assured her. Clover still looked sceptical, not that Emma blamed her. She barely knew her in this realm, and here she was telling her to come with her for a “surprise”. For all she knew, the surprise was a dagger in the gut and being thrown to the bottom of a ravine.

She needed to stop getting hooked on the crime dramas of this realm.

“Take a leap of faith?” she asked. Clover smiled and took Emma’s outstretched hand.

“Just know I have pepper spray in my pocket and could break both your legs if I want to,” she said.

“Noted,” Emma replied, suppressing a grin. That was her Merida.

Emma could see Clover growing more and more confused as she led her down to the docks, then taking a turn and leading her down towards the end of the road, then down to the old boat sheds. Clover’s hand slipped into her pocket.

“I promise there’s nothing bad going on,” Emma said.

“Sounds exactly like something an axe murderer would say,” she whispered, half chuckling. Emma shook her head, knowing there was nothing she could do until they reached Patrick and Jonathan. IN an attempt to reassure her, she took her phone out of her pocket and flicked on the light. “Well that’s rather helpful.”

It was a few more minutes of walking in a tense silence before they found them. Patrick and Jonathan standing next to one of the sheds, eyeing each other awkwardly, Patrick making small talk with-

“Jia?” Clover gasped, a smile already bursting on her face.

“Clover?” Jia echoed. After a pause, and a nod from Emma, they ran to each other, Clover lifting Jia off the ground with a surprising strength. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Clover asked as she pulled away. “Jenny told me to come down here…” Trailing off, still holding Jia, Clover turned to look at her. “What’s this about?”

“Well… I thought about how every time you guys try to be together, someone finds you out. And then Patrick told me about this place. No one in town comes here. So, I thought, why not use it for you guys,” she said. “You can see each other whenever you guys want. Within reason, of course.”

“Are you serious?” Clover asked.

“We spruced it up a bit inside,” Patrick added. “Some polish here, a vacuum, some paint, and she’s as good as new.”

“I know it’s not ideal but, better than nothing?” Emma offered.

“What about my parents?” Clover asked. “They’ll never let me come down here.”

“Just say you’re with me,” Emma said.

“I can use you as a scapegoat?” she asked. Emma nodded. “Jenny, I don’t know what to say.”

“I do,” Jia said. “Thank you. Thank you so much. But why?”

“Because,” Emma said. “You two deserve to be happy. That’s a good enough reason.” Jia laughed and buried her cheek on Clover’s shoulder. Clover tightened her grip on Jia’s arm. “Now go, you two. Have all the fun you want.”

“Lock up when you’re done,” Patrick added, tossing them a key. The two gave Emma another wild, grateful smile, full of disbelief, before running into the shed together. Their giggles were still audible from inside.

“Thank you, Patrick,” Emma said, looking from the shed to him. “For all of this.”

“I’m just glad to be a part of your little project,” he said, giving her a wink, making her insides melt. “Still baffles me, Bird, the way you get on. But I like it.”

“Yeah, well….” Emma said, waving her hand nonchalantly. Jonathan slid to her side and she swung an arm around his shoulders. “I should get this one home.”

“Of course,” Patrick said. “And if you ever need my help with anything. You know where to find me.”

“Always,” Emma said.

As she walked her brother home, Emma couldn’t stop the spring in her step, the bright smile on her face. The sight of Mulan and Merida being together again would have been enough for her, but she felt different. The town felt different. Where it had felt tight, almost claustrophobic, the air was so much lighter. There was still a thick, invisible fog around her, reminding her that the curse was still very much in effect, but she had set the wheel in motion now. She was the Saviour and had finally done some saving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was time some happy endings got dished out, and I've had a soft spot for Merida/Mulan. Mulan deserves all the love.  
> Feel free to leave comments, they feed my hungry ego.  
> Next chapter: a victory ball is thrown in Dun Broch, and Princess Emma contemplates bringing a guest. Meanwhile, Emma struggles to convince Regina she is still under, and worries her whole plan could unravel.


	8. Chapter 8

_Emma should not have been awake. The rest of her family had long since gone to bed, even her parents, and her father was often staying up late to either do work or have fun with her mother. Henry had gone to bed long before anyone else. Robert had crept downstairs when he thought no one could hear, ventured into the kitchen to sneak a secret cake, but he was fast asleep now, no doubt with a trail of crumbs around his mouth. It was just Emma, kept awake by her increasing nerves that could only be calmed by pacing her bedroom and reading the words on her paper under her breath again and again._

_‘To Killian,_

_I’ll be the grown up here, and admit that ever since we parted ways, you’ve been on my mind. My kingdom owes you a debt, and though you don’t want it repaid, I think you deserve something in return._

_My family is attending a ball in Dun Broch to celebrate their victory in war on Saturday night. I don’t know if you’re much for dancing, but as long as the alcohol keeps flowing, it’s sure to be a good night. And I’ll keep an empty seat in our carriage for you. If you want to come, meet my family at the palace before sunset. We’ll be waiting there for you. My parents, my brother and my son._

_While this may be to thank you for your hard work, I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t mind the pleasure of your company one more time._

_I hope you can come._

_Yours,_

_Princess Emma.’_

_Emma looked over her words, tracing the edge of the paper with her finger. She had written roughly the same paragraph five times before-the words in a different order, some substituted for other words, some simpler, some more complex. One signed “yours, Emma” (too casual), one signed “yours, Her Royal Highness”, which she signed all her official letters with but was far too formal. She had nearly torn that one in half, one signed “from, Princess Emma”, which she felt didn’t hold nearly enough meaning, far too flippant and offhand. So much effort for one small note._

_One small request that she might regret._

_For all she knew, he’d toss the note into the sea the minute it was dropped in front of him. Or he’d have a good laugh with his new crew over it. Pass the note around, tell them about precious Princess Emma who was begging him to come to some royal ball so that she can show off her new reformed scoundrel to her princess friends._

_She shook her head. Killian wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t mock her. And she certainly did not come off as begging._

_But maybe, most likely, he hadn’t thought of her since she last saw him. Maybe he had found his one true love, the sea, and she had faded from his mind, nothing more than a fun story for the tavern. Maybe he’d look at the note, think it over, give a small smile at the memory of their adventure, be flattered that she had written to him, and then drop it onto his desk, where it would get lost in a pile of maps and books. He may well dig it out in a month or so and chuckle to himself, kick himself for not going. Then toss it back as if it was nothing at all._

_As if she was nothing at all._

_The image painted itself in her mind, so detailed she could see every nook and cranny of his room in the Jolly Roger, saw his bookshelf and the chipped yellow paint and the grimy mirror. Saw Killian with his blue-green and his strong jaw and his ginger scruff. Saw the dimples in cheeks as he tossed away her note._

_She shook her head and shoved herself away from her desk, forcing herself to make the image fade._

_Her heart was still racing. She decided not to send the letter. She never made good decisions at this late hour; no one ever did. She tucked it away inside an envelope, and tucked the envelope inside her diary, in between her account of Dun Broch’s victory._

_She just needed to sleep on it._

_As it turned out, sleeping on it did not help. She woke later than usual, opening her eyes when the sun was well in the sky. She groaned and rolled into her pillow, hoping she hadn’t missed breakfast. She pulled on a plain green gown, the first she could find in her wardrobe, and tucked her letter in the folds of the sleeves. She ran a brush through her golden locks before taking off down the stairs, thankfully finding the smell of bacon and coffee._

_“Somebody’s up late,” Robert remarked as he passed her on his way out of the dining hall. “I’d love to know what you were doing last night.” She responded simply by giving his shoulder a small shove, barely paying him attention. Her father was already out, but her mother sat at the table, polishing off her breakfast and watching her daughter intently. Her mother, the expert on all things True Love, was simultaneously the person she needed the most and the least._

_“Morning,” she greeted. Emma nodded as she sat down. Gone were the expected formalities. At breakfast, she may have been any other girl, her family any other family. And she was tired. And hungry. “Something on your mind?”_

_Emma wondered what had given it away; the lack of speaking, the redness of her cheeks, her still slightly messy hair or the tapping of her nails against the wooden table._

_“Nothing,” she lied. Lying was useless; her mother saw through her like a cheaply made curtain._

_“You look very nervous over nothing,” she replied, raising an eyebrow and taking a small sip of her tea._

_“Maybe it’s something….” Emma mumbled, resuming the tapping of her fingers on the table. Snow chuckled to herself, making Emma blush, out of both embarrassment and a hint of anger. The last thing she wanted was her mother mocking her. She was an adult for god’s sake! “I might be considering inviting someone to the ball in Dun Broch.”_

_“Oh?” she asked. “And who might that person be?” Emma pressed the palms of her hands together. Her heartbeat grew faster and faster, blood pounding in her ears, her cheeks stung as a metallic taste filled her mouth._

_“It might be….. Hook,” she whispered. “Killian.” His name hung in the air between them. All Emma could think was how glad she was her father wasn’t there to hear it. Her mother nodded, her lips in a tight line. The silence stretched out between them, and the longer it went on, the more restless Emma grew. She shifted in her seat, pulled at her dress, waiting for a response. “Is that…. Are you mad?”_

_“No,” Snow chuckled. “Why would I be mad?” Emma could only shrug. “I mean, we’ve not heard any word of him since we last saw him. As far as we know, he made good on what he told you.”_

_“I thought you’d object to me inviting a pirate,” Emma said, half joking._

_“Emma, I used to be a bandit,” Snow reminded her. Emma had heard the stories of how her mother slept in trees and stole to survive and got into scrapes with black knights. “I don’t exactly have a perfect past. And in some ways, I think he and I are alike. I think he deserves a second chance as much as anyone.”_

_Emma nodded. She wondered if this would have been easier for her if Snow had rejected him, forbade her from ever seeing him again. Because then she wouldn’t have to deal with… this. The feeling growing inside of her, the nagging voice in her head._

_“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Snow asked. She got up from her chair and sat down on the table next to her. “Tell me.” Emma shook her head. “Does it have something to do with…. Them?”_

_Them. The two men who had broken her heart in their own ways. Baelfire, who had to run away and took her belief with him, and Walsh who came in and nearly broke her spirit. It would take a lot for someone to make her believe in love again, and to take a chance on it. A private part of her thought that it would take a miracle._

_And there was a very big chance that said miracle could be Killian._

_And that scared the crap out of her._

_“Maybe,” she admitted. “I just…” Snow ran a comforting hand over her daughter’s back, gently, slowly coaxing the truth out of her. Emma put her head in her hands, her fingers digging into her hair, her breath “I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about him!” Snow nodded, massaging the back of her daughter’s neck._

_“I know, darling, I know,” she whispered. “But the exciting part is…. What if you’re right about him?” Emma buried her face in her elbow. “I know that you’re nervous. I don’t blame you after….” Her voice trailed off, taking care with her words, not wanting to re-open her daughter’s wounds. “Emma, you can’t close yourself off forever.”_

_“I can try,” she mumbled, but it was half-hearted._

_“So, what do you say?” Snow asked. “Take a chance?” Emma often wished she had her mother’s spirit and optimism. Despite how infuriating it could be sometimes, it was inspiring, and she thought it would be incredibly comforting to live with. “Emma, take the word of someone who did, it’s so worth the risk.”_

_“Okay,” she whispered, barely enough for herself to hear. “Okay. I’ll invite him.” She lifted her head off the table, brushing hair off her face. “Speaking of….” She gently lifted the envelope out of her sleeve and held it to her mother. “Could you use a bird? Send it to Killian Jones, on the Jolly Roger.”_

_Laughing, Snow took the letter off her._

_“He’ll have it by nightfall,” she told her, patting her hand._

_Under the table, Emma crossed her fingers. That night she wished on every star, and every morning she waited intently for a letter addressed to her, she waited at the harbour every day just in case he decided to come early._

                                                                                                

* * *

 

Emma sat herself on the counter with a bowl of cereal, already in her uniform for work at Granny’s, swinging her legs in time to the music coming from the radio. Some song about a man who waited tables falling for a careless man’s careful daughter. Saving Merida and Mulan had lifted her spirits considerably. There was something in the air; she didn’t feel so suffocated as she did before. The whole town felt a small bit lighter. She found it easier to move this morning, a departure from her usual internal battle to leave the small, creaking bed.

When Jonathan entered, he gave her a raised eyebrow that was a non-verbal way of saying “who are you and what have you done with my sister”. Jenny would never act like this. All Emma could see in the ‘Jenny’ part of her minds were slow, dull mornings with snapped words and a pat on Jonathan’s head as they left the house. Not pop music and bright eyes.

Jenny had never had what Emma had, what everyone else in this curse was missing.

Hope.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Eating breakfast,” she answered. He scrunched his nose and shook his head before moving to the cupboard and taking out the bag of bread. Emma made a mental note to pick up some more later.

“You’re in a good mood,” he remarked, not looking at her, his voice flat.

“I didn’t realise that was wrong,” she chuckled. She took a look at him; his hands gripped the counter a little too tight, his lips set in a thin line, his shoulders shaking. She pushed herself off the counter and touched his wrist softly. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said thickly. Emma shook her head and brushed the long hair out of his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Jon, what is it?” she asked. She wrapped her arms around him and gave his shoulders a small squeeze, nuzzling her head gently against his, coaxing the truth out of him. “Not telling go until you tell me.”

“Last night… That guy Patrick…” He drew in a sharp breath. “Are you two dating?”

To say the least, it took Emma by surprise. Robert had loved Killian, always had. But then again. He wasn’t Robert, he was Jonathan, and he wasn’t Killian, he was Patrick. They hadn’t been raised together in a palace, where they fell back to the open and loving support of their parents. As far as he remembered; Jenny had been all he had for years. They had fallen into a sweet little system recently. Sweet, but delicate. The slightest touch could make it fall.

“No,” she answered. “He’s just my friend. Why?”

“Nothing,” he lied. Emma shook her head and tilted his head towards her.

“Liar. Come on, kid, out with it.”

“It would just be weird,” he admitted. “If you got a boyfriend.” He toyed with his hands, linking and unlinking his fingers.

“How weird?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he said. He tried to wriggle his shoulders out of her grasp. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Rob-Jonathan,” she sighed, letting him go. “Nothing would change here if I was dating. Which I’m not.”

He looked at her with big, sad green eyes, a pout on his face that reminded her of how young he was.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” she echoed. Jonathan gave her a small smile, not quite meeting his eyes, but not completely false either. “Hey. If, and that is a big if, I ever start dating, you still come first.” He kicked the floor, his fingers winding in the edge of his jumper.

“Do you like him?” he asked, catching her by surprise.

‘Do you like him’ was a ridiculous question and he didn’t even know it. Emma bit the inside of her cheek to either stop herself from laughing or crying, she didn’t know. With the ridiculousness of the question and the unfairness of her current situation, there was a fair chance for both reactions.

“No,” she half lied. Half, because ‘like’ was too weak a word. “I do not like him, Jon.”

“Pity,” he said. “Because he likes you.”

A blush crept across Emma’s face that she didn’t even bother to hide. This time it was Jonathan’s turn to try not to laugh as he watched his sister stumble over her words at the implication. Emma wanted to dismiss the possibility altogether but if Merida and Mulan found each other, and even Red and Belle still loved each other even if they weren’t together, then there had to be a chance for her and Killian.

But this curse came with a price; she had seen it first hand with Paige and Ruby, and even Jia and Clover were settling for late nights and early mornings in an old shipyard, and she had a feeling that Regina was onto her already. Being with Patrick would be both a blessing and a curse.

“Dare to dream, Jon,” she mumbled before taking a deep breath and setting her face. The armour went on, the pain stayed inside.

                                                                                                

* * *

 

_Emma smoothed down her skirt and looked down the road for what must have been the fiftieth time. She knew what she’d see every time she looked there. Just an empty road leading into a silent forest. Her family stood behind her, Robert toying with some stick he had found on the ground, Henry trying not to look bored as he wandered around in a circle. She could feel how sympathetic her mother was; felt her big green eyes looking at her and she just knew she had a small pout on her lips. She wasn’t just putting herself through hell with all this waiting, she was putting her family through it too._

_She took the risk. He didn’t._

_“He’s not coming,” she announced, turning to face her family, balling her dress in her hands. “Let’s just go.”_

_“Emma, you don’t know that,” Snow reassured her. “He might just be running late, he might have gotten lost.”_

_“No, it’s fine,” she said, brushing an imaginary lock of hair off her face. Her hair was held back by a thin gold headband and braided down her back “I thought he was coming and he wasn’t. He probably had better things to do than go to some ball with someone he met just one time.” There was a bitterness in her voice she couldn’t disguise, and everyone felt it._

_“Well, I say, it’s his loss,” her father said. “Now come on, let’s go to this ball, let’s have a good time.” Emma looked over at the two identical carriages ready and waiting for them; a white roof held up by silver rails, a wall high enough to keep them from falling out but low enough that they could enjoy the full view of the journey. Her parents were to take one, and she and Henry and Robert would take the other._

_“Okay,” she whispered. David took her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. She took Henry’s hand and made her way to the carriage-_

_“Wait!” an unmistakable voice called from the woods. Her body froze, a laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. She turned slowly to see none other than Killian Jones running towards her, his long coat trailing behind him. As he came closer, she could see that he had traded his black vest for a deep red one with a gold trim, that his hair had been combed down as much as he could have-no one could ever tame that hair- but the kohl around his eyes remained there. He stopped just a few feet from the family, his face red._

_“Terribly sorry, your Highnesses,” he gasped. “I, um, I only got into dock yesterday, the seas weren’t in our favour, and I did get a bit lost on the way up to the palace and vastly misjudged how far away I was-”_

_“You’re here,” Emma laughed, going over to meet him. He gave her a small smile; the tips of his ears are red. His hand fumbles awkwardly before he clutches his belt. “You came.”_

_“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied. “You did promise alcohol and dancing, which are two of my favourite things.” When he smiles it becomes Emma’s turn to blush now; just a light shade of pink across her nose and cheeks. She wondered how it is possible for someone to be so charming and so nervous all at the same time._

_“I’m glad you could make it,” she said. “Killian.” He nodded and looked behind her and it then hit her that she had a whole family to introduce. She turned around, taking a step back so she stood beside him. “Mother, father, you remember Killian.”_

_“It’s nice to see you again, Captain,” her mother said. Her father settled for a silent nod._

_“And this is my younger brother Robert,” she continued. “And this little monkey is my son, Henry.”_

_“How do you do?” Killian asked, shaking Robert’s hand and then bending down to shake Henry’s. Henry, being the lover of people that he is, gave him a toothy smile, while Robert was more hesitant, his face dark._

_“Let’s get moving, shall we?” Snow said. “Emma, I assume Captain Jones will ride with you?”_

_“Indeed,” she said. “Unless he objects?”_

_“No objections from me, love,” he replied. Emma nodded to the footman, who opened the carriage door for them. Henry and Robert piled in first, sitting on the seats facing the direction they’d travel in, while Emma and Killian sat opposite them._

_Once Killian sat down, he placed his hands in his lap._

_“I thought you had a hook for a hand,” Henry remarked. Emma looked down and saw a black false hand, rather than the shining piece of metal she remembered. As soon as the words let Henry’s mouth she felt a knot form in her stomach. He was just curious, but sadly curiosity came with a lack of sensitivity. “That’s not a hook.”_

_“Henry, that’s rude,” she whispered, but Killian shook his head, smiling._

_“I don’t mind, love,” he said. “I do have a hook, little mate, but I decided to leave it on my ship. I figured it might be best. It’s not great for dancing.”_

_“Can I see your real hook one day?” Henry asked._

_“If you like,” he answered. “I’ll even show you my ship.” Henry’s face light up, his smile reaching his ears._

_“Really?”_

_“Really,” he promised. “You too if you like, Prince.” Emma couldn’t help smiling. Even Robert’s stony mask began to crack as his lips twitched into a smile. She moved her hand from her lap and let her finger brush Killian’s leg, light as a feather. He didn’t take her hand, but moved his own hand in a similar fashion, so that their little fingers touched._

* * *

 

Emma was starting to find working at Granny’s oddly relaxing. For one, it was keeping her from going insane by having to continue thinking about the God forsaken curse, about how much she missed her family and friends, how much pressure this curse was putting on her. Something to give a structure to her day. But other than that, aside from having to deal with less than polite customers (she was glad to see the curse did not do anything to stop Grumpy from being, well… Grumpy) and the pressure of the busy rush hours, it felt good to provide a service for people. It was a far cry from what she had done at home; back then she learned about funding and war plans and education and infrastructure and health care. But here it was something to help people.

And it brought her closer to her Aunt Red and Granny. They used to be her closest confidants, and she’d take them in any form.

However, there was one awful part about working in Granny’s, which was-

“Miss Bird,” Regina greeted, gliding up to the counter.

The Mayor loved eating there too.

“Madam Mayor,” she said through gritted teeth. “How can I help you?” Regina’s eyes roamed all over her. She heard stories about how the Queen kept birds in cages to practice magic on when she was still learning. Back when her mother was still a child and she had some humanity. Emma felt like one of those birds now. The curse was her cage, this façade of Jenny was her cage, and all she could do was act natural-or unnatural in her case.

“Coffee, black, to go,” she ordered. She cast an eye over the selection of traybakes on display, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She looked at Emma with even more distaste. “So, Miss Bird, been making any new friends?”

“I’ve been too busy to make new friends,” she replied, working on her coffee order.

“So… You’ve just been speaking to Patrick, then?” she said, her voice bright. Too bright. “I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

“He’s not really my friend,” she answered tightly. “I helped him out a bit, that’s all.”

“What a hero,” she sighed. “And that young red-headed Scottish girl. She’s nothing to you?”

“She looked like she needed a shoulder to cry on,” Emma explained. “And I was sitting there. And I haven’t seen her since.” That much was true, but Patrick had informed her that he had seen Clover and Jia sneaking into their new hideout, all pink cheeks and clasped hands. He said they look like two schoolgirls.

“Well aren’t you the town sweetheart?” she asked, her voice equal parts sweet and bitter. “In fact, between helping poor Patrick and being Clover’s helping hand, I’d even call you the town Saviour.”

The word hit Emma like a speeding bullet. The paper cup she had lifted slipped through her hands and crumpled on the floor at her feet, the water on the floor soaking into it, making it collapse in on itself. Her body stayed froze in its position, her hands shook. She could have sworn she felt her heart stop beating, the blood withdraw from her arms, leaving them cold and feeling hollow. Even breathing was a struggle for her.

She knew.

Regina leaned across the counter, looking down at the discarded cup with a close-lipped, red smile. She pouted, chuckling darkly. Emma didn’t know if it was fear or some other force that kept her rooted where she stood. She felt like someone was behind her, holding her arms and legs in place with ice cold hands.

“You know Jenny, you should be careful. Some things can’t be fixed quite as easily as a dropped cup of coffee.”

                                                                                             

* * *

 

_Killian let out a low whistle as he entered the ballroom with Emma on his arm. Dun Broch’s ballroom was unlike any other; all grey stone walls, covered in tapestries depicting the family coats of arms for each clan and some of the famous legends of the Kingdom. The place actually has no roof, meaning above them is the night sky and the stars and it was outdoors, so that rather than a marble floor there was the grass underneath their feet; it’s something Emma has always loved about the place and it impresses the hell out of Killian. There are four long tables draped with white cloth around the sides, covered in silver dishes of different kinds of foods and goblets and about three copper jugs to a table. The many candles on the wall bring warmth and light to the room. There are already quite a number of guests, although most of them are Dun Broch’s soldiers chatting idly with the King and Queen. Merida was so easy to spot in the crowd with her mad mass of red curls._

_“Emma!” she roared upon seeing her friend. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye to the soldier who had been chatting her up before she ran to her and threw her arms around her. “It’s been too long.” Behind her, Robert was attacked by three identical terrors jumping at him; otherwise known as Merida’s triplet brothers, Hamish, Herbert and Haggis. Her mother crossed the ballroom, her father at her side, to greet the King and Queen in the proper manner._

_“It has,” Emma agreed, taking her arm out of Killian’s and hugging her tightly. “I believe this party is mostly in your honour. You were the hero of the hour.”_

_“I fired a few arrows and swung a sword,” she mumbled, her cheeks pink. “It was nothing special. This is our real hero.” She gestured to a young woman who had been behind them. Tall with dark hair held back in a loose braid, with bright brown eyes and brown skin. She approached the group cautiously, taking Merida’s hand and eyeing her shyly. “This is Mulan. She came to help us on the front and if it wasn’t for her I’m not sure who would have won.” Mulan blushed, her face matching the crimson of her sleeveless dress. “And, well, there’s something else….” Emma can tell what Merida is about to say already, with her hand and Mulan’s swinging slightly, the secret smiles between them. “Well, we’ve been courting for a bit.”_

_“And this is the first I’m hearing of it?” Emma asked sarcastically, giggling._

_“Well, I thought it would be better to break the news in person,” she explained. “Speaking of news….” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Killian expectantly._

_“This is… Captain Killian Jones,” she introduced. “He helped my parents capture the Dark One. Killian, Princess Merida of Dun Broch”_

_“You did?” Mulan asked, her eyes growing wide, sparkling with awe. “I heard that was impossible.”_

_“Well, the Princess did help me quite a bit with that task,” he said. “It was a team effort.”_

_“You’ll have to tell me that story,” Merida said. “Promise?”_

_“Aye, I promise,” he replied. “Emma, why don’t I take your cloak for you and get you a drink?” Emma nodded. She wanted some alone time with her friend. As Killian slipped away with her cloak, Mulan mumbled something to Merida about giving her some time to catch up with her friend. Before she could slip away completely, Merida took her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek. If the smile on Mulan’s face was anything to go by; it wasn’t unwanted._

_“Don’t say a word, missy,” Merida warned upon seeing Emma’s teasing smile. “We may be at a ball, but I can still fight you. Even in this dress”_

_“Merida, I’m happy for you,” she insisted. “She seems great. And given that you met on the front lines of a war, your type.”_

_“She taught me to swordfight and everything,” she said, almost giggling. “She’s amazing, Emma. I mean, I didn’t know I could feel like this about someone. Like, she used to make my heart go crazy just being in the same room as me!”_

_“Merida if I didn’t know better, I’d say you had some wine in you already,” Emma teased. Merida giggled, which turned into a snort._

_“Sorry, I just… It’s all new, you know? It’s exciting! And speaking of new and exciting…” She made an incredibly unsubtle turn to look at Killian, who was talking to Mulan while filling two glasses. “How long has this been happening?”_

_“Long story,” Emma laughed. “Condensed version; my parents hired him to steal the Dark One dagger, we stole it together. Which was a good few months ago, and then I invited him to come here.” When Merida waggled her eyebrows suggestively, Emma gave her an unladylike slap on the arm. “He’s just a friend.”_

_“Oh, Emma. You may be good at spotting lies, but you’re awful at telling them.”_

_Emma crossed her arms over her chest, pressing tightly._

_“Anyway, he’s alright. If men were my thing I might even take a fancy to him,” Merida sighed. Emma laughed, but didn’t drop her arms as she watched him cross back over the ballroom to her. He had taken off his long coat and was just wearing a black, loose shirt under his vest. On the surface, he looked like the pirate she had met on the ship, but up close, she could feel something was different about him, something had changed. She just didn’t know what. She hoped it was him having changed for the better._

_“He is,” Emma echoed._

_She just hoped her faith in him was going to be justified._

_Across the ballroom, Snow White and Prince Charming talked with Fergus and Elinor, congratulating them on their hard earned victory._

_“It was hard for a while,” Fergus admitted. “I’d say if Mulan hadn’t shown up to help when she did, all may have been lost.”_

_“You’re being over dramatic again,” Elinor sighed. “But Mulan was a great assistance.”_

_“And from what I can see, Merida took a shine to her,” Snow said. She took a look across the ballroom to where her Emma stood with Killian at her side, talking to Merida and Mulan. After Mulan returned from taking a brief walk, Merida had taken her by the hand and pulled her towards her, wrapping her arm around her waist and kissing her cheek. Merida had never been one for subtlety. “How long has that been going on?”_

_“Merida says it’s new, but…” Elinor raises and eyebrow. “I do wonder what they got up to on those ‘training sessions’ after we won…”_

_“They’re young, Elinor,” Charming laughed. “We were all like that once.”_

_“It seems Emma’s found a suitor of her own,” Fergus remarked. “Looks like a bit of a rogue, but I’m sure he’s a fine man underneath it all.”_

_“I hope so,” Charming said, voice rough as he looked over at his daughter. “In any case, I don’t even know if they’re…. Like that. She said she brought him here as a reward for helping us with the Dark One.”_

_“And what is that like now?” Elinor asked delicately._

_“He’s locked in our dungeon,” Snow assured her. “The same dungeon we built to contain him before, when we thought the curse was coming. We have the dagger under lock and key and he is always heavily guarded.” She saw the tension leave the Queen’s shoulders. The Dark One being locked up was a source of relief for everyone. “And now we’re rebuilding our kingdom, saving the villages he nearly taxed to death.”_

_“I’ll drink to that,” Fergus said, lifting his glass to them._

_Snow and Charming lifted their glasses, but it was half hearted. They both knew that going against their deal with the Dark One would cost them terribly. While he remained trapped below their castle, there would always be the lingering threat of a loophole, a secret way out._

_But for now, they could drink with their friends, dance, watch their daughter’s budding friendship (or possible love affair) with Captain Hook grow, remark on how Merida and the triplets have grown and likely scold Robert for doing something. Rumpelstiltskin could be a bridge they would cross when they come to it._

* * *

 

Following finishing work at Granny’s, Emma headed down to the grocery store in town, stocking up on weekly necessities. Bread and milk and shampoo and cereal and burgers. Her pay check this week was just barely stretching to cover it; provided she got the own brand of everything and kept her eye out for offers. She also had rent due next week, that money sitting safely in the rent jar. She wondered as she passed through the isles if they were running low on anything else; there was enough vegetables to tide them over until next week, she had just got a new bottle of shower gel a few days ago and there were still uneaten frozen chickens in the freezer.

She was becoming more and more accustomed to cursed life. It wasn’t easy, but it was familiar. She blended in with the townsfolk easily, slipped into Jenny’s daily routine with next to no difficulty.  A sort of comforting familiarity began to creep into her days; sometimes she found it was easy to pretend she was never Emma. Sometimes she forgot that life, for the smallest of moments, she’d be serving tables or working out bills or cleaning her house and her old life, in her old, real home, would fade from her mind, she’d forget about being a princess, or Robert being Jonathan, or Patrick being Killian. And then she’d want to slap herself.

It had also occurred reason she was able to fool them is because they weren’t really aware of what was happening. She could run up and down main street screaming “I am Princess Emma of Misthaven” at the top of her lungs and very few people would bat an eye.

Of course; one person wasn’t fooled by her, and that was the one person she needed to fool more than anyone. Regina knew. Regina knew she was awake. One thing calmed her nerves; they were in a land without magic, which meant Regina lost what her mother called her crutch. She had said that her downfall was that she became far too dependent on her magic.

But there were other ways to hurt Emma. Other ways to cause suffering; starting with sending her brother away to live with another family. And then there was Patrick, whom she had already made unemployed for a brief time. And she had full control of her son. Emma knew Regina was not above hurting children; she had heard tales from Hansel and Gretel of how she sent them to the blind witch’s home and how they scarcely escaped with their lives, and from her own mother about how twisted she could be towards her since Snow was a girl. She could only hope that Regina was more focussed on her than she was on Henry. Or hope that maybe, Regina was treating him fairy. Snow did say Regina loved her pets…

“Woah there!” someone called out. Emma had been so distracted by her thoughts, she nearly ploughed into someone with her shopping cart. She couldn’t see who it was, just saw them step out of the way in the nick of time.

“Sorry,” said. “Sorry I didn’t look where I was…..” She looked at her near-victim and saw Merlin, or rather Mr Elliot. Her face flushed red. They hadn’t seen each other since that day she went to his house and made a complete fool of herself. “Mr Elliot.”

“Evening, Jenny,” he said, nodding stiffly. “How are you doing?” He spoke slowly, his tone too bright, as though he was speaking to a child, and it made Emma want to scream. Even when they first met, back when her parents first hired him to teach Emma magic, Merlin had never spoken to her like that. He had been kind, his voice soft and kind, like a soft wind in the autumn. While he commanded respect, he gave her the same. Here he just seemed to pity her.

“Fine,” she mumbled, moving to walk away from him. He caught her by the shoulder and gently turned her to face him.

“Look, Jenny, if you’re still upset about what happened, I’m sorry. And I was thinking… Maybe you could start again.” Emma’s heart nearly dropped to the floor. This was either a cruel trick from Regina, or a sign that Merlin was gaining control, the hold the curse had over him was weakening. “Maybe not as proper lessons, but one or twice a month, maybe we could meet up for coffee and discuss something? Like those poems you loved so much? Or a new novel. There’s still a lot of old Victorian books I think you’d like. Strong women making their way in the world.”

“Mr Elliot,” Emma interrupted. Her grip on the shopping cart tightened. She didn’t need Regina swooping in to destroy her happiness right now; she was about to break her own heart. “I’m sorry, but no. I’ve just got a lot going on right now.” Elliot’s face fell into a perfect picture of guilt.

“Look, Jenny, I know I didn’t let you down easily the last time,” he apologised.

“It’s not that,” she said. “Just that between Jonathan and work and my friends, I’m not sure I have time for classes right now. Maybe later.” He nodded, his hands fumbling inside his jacket for something. He pulled out a small white card and handed it to her. “You’re giving me your card?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Little bit cliché.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “Just in case you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” she said. She knew she wouldn’t change her mind, but she still smiled and nodded before pushing her cart back down the aisle, wondering if she had made the right decision. Her mother had told her that a leader always put other people’s safety above her own happiness. It was fundamental; the first rule of being a hero.

Emma naively never thought about what it would feel like to actually do it.

                                                                                             

* * *

 

_Guests quickly came in after Emma’s arrival and the ball kicked into gear. The music changed from a small light background noise; bagpipes joined in (making Killian pull a face, much to Emma’s amusement), fiddles picked up tempo and Emma and Killian were involuntarily pulled onto the dance floor. Dun Broch’s balls were as wild as the kingdom itself-or indeed, the princess. They didn’t get a chance to dance together; the crowd flung them around, switching partners so rapidly Emma couldn’t even see her next partner’s face. Across the room she could see Killian, dancing around with anyone and everyone, his head thrown back laughing at something she couldn’t hear._

_When the music ended, she staggered away from her various partners, dropping curtsies to the various nameless and faceless men who bowed to her, until Killian met her halfway, red faced and out of breath._

_“Do you know, I’m sure I’ve done this exact dance with my crew,” he told her._

_“You danced with your crew?” Emma asked, half giggling._

_“Long nights on the sea can get boring, and if there’s a musician on board and we’re half drunk, why not?” he replied, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “How are you feeling after all that?”_

_“Wishing I’d worn a looser dress,” she admitted. “Or a shorter one. It’s impossible not to trip over in this thing.”_

_“You’d never think it to look at you,” he told her. “You moved like a swan out there.” Emma’s cheeks turned pink, and not from the dancing._

_She lead him over to the wall where they watched the dancers. Emma spied Henry weaving his way through the crowd, being chased by three little flashes of green and orange and smiled. He was growing up so fast. He could easily outrun the triplets but was letting himself be captured by them; they tackled him to the ground and Hamish jumped on his back, letting out the victory cry of his clan._

_“Your boy is a spitfire,” Killian remarked, smiling himself._

_“He is,” she replied. “He can still be a handful but, I suppose he’s my handful.” When she looked at Killian, she saw the obvious look of curiosity on his face. It was always like that, the whispers and unspoken accusations, the rumours that the Princess had had a child out of wedlock. If only they knew what had really happened; while giving sanctuary to the Dark One’s son, she had fallen for him, and they had had a silly teenage affair, and he was gone the next day. Gone to a Land Without Magic, and she didn’t even discover she was pregnant until two months later. “He’s growing up fast.”_

_“They tend to do that,” he mumbled. Emma looked at him. Of all the things she had expected him to be; a father was not one of them. He chuckled sadly at her expression._

_“I don’t have any ones of my own,” he admitted. “Just long ago, I knew someone who did.” She nodded and went back to watching the dancers. This man was difficult, to put it mildly. Every time she thought she knew him, there would be something else, another twist to surprise her, and she’d have to start trying to work him out all over again._

_The music changed again, the temp slowing to a gentle waltz._

_“Killian,” Emma said, summoning her nerves. “May I be bold and ask you for a dance?” Killian laughed, and took her outstretched hand._

_“You know, in my experience, the man is the one who leads,” he told her as she placed her hand on his shoulder and her other one wrapped around his false hand. “But for you, I think the rules can be broken.”_

_“You waltzed?” she asked._

_“In another life, yes,” he said._

_“Just how many lives have you had, Captain?” she asked, getting braver again. She pulled him just a fraction of an inch closer, closer than her father would like. The tips of his ears turned red as they twirled around the ballroom together._

_“I had a life once, an honourable on. I’ve been trying to return to it,” he admitted._

_“What triggered the change of heart?” she asked, half hoping she knew the answer._

_“Don’t you know, Emma?” he replied, the corner of his lip curling into a sly smile. Emma smiled back, her heart fluttering. A man of honour. An honest one.  The man she had hoped he’d be._

_But then, Walsh had also claimed he was a man like that. And it turned out, he was after her magic._

_“What is it?” he asked softly, his fingertips running soft, circular motions on her shoulder._

_“Nothing,” she replied, continuing to lead him around the dance floor. “I’m glad you came.”_

_“I almost didn’t,” he confessed. “When I got the invitation… I worried it was because you pitied me. You pitied the poor pirate with no real home.”_

_“What made you change your mind?” she asked. They may well have been in a crowded ballroom in the middle of a dance floor, but Emma felt like she and Killian were in their own private world._

_“Irrational hope?” he suggested. “Call it a leap of faith.”_

_“Sometimes I feel like I should take those too,” she admitted. He laughed softly and lifted his hand from her shoulder to trace her chin. His eyes looked into hers and she wondered what he was seeing. Was he seeing her or a crown, or a story to tell, or Emma? The person or the princes? Was he seeing her, and did he like what he was seeing?_

_The music stopped, and they broke apart to applaud the musicians._

_“Why don’t I get us some drinks?” he asked. After she nodded, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips, not taking his eyes off her face._

_He was a gentleman. Emma just hoped it wasn’t another façade he was hiding underneath._

_“Emma!” a voice squeaked in her ear. Emma turned to see the long, dark red hair, bright brown eyes and infectious smile of her Aunt Ariel. “I’ve been looking for you!”_

_“Aunt Ariel,” she greeted, pulling her into a hug. Ariel’s hugs were wonderful, making her feel safe but also free, like the ocean itself. “I didn’t know you were coming.”_

_“I’d never miss a party,” she giggled. “And who was that handsome man I saw you dancing with?”_

_“Oh, him,” Emma chuckled, hiding her face with her hair. “He’s just a friend. He’s names Killian-”_

_“Jones,” Ariel finished, gasping. “Not Killian Jones, is it?”_

_“It is,” she answered, her heart clenching in her chest. “Why?”_

_“I met him, must have been a month ago,” she said. “Well you see, Eric and Melody and I were out on Eric’s boat, and we moored for a bit to let Melody have a bit of a swim, you know how she can’t stay out of the water for too long, and while we were there, some pirates tried to raid our boat and take Melody. Well, let’s say if he hadn’t been sailing by and jumped in to stop them I don’t know what would have happened. They took Mel and me pretty quick, and Eric, I love him but he’s no warrior.”_

_“He saved you guys?” Emma asked, her voice small._

_“Uh-huh. I mean he tried talking them down at first, but when they wouldn’t listen to reason, he incapacitated all of them and set me and Mels free,” she said. “I mean I thanked him, of course I did, but I’d love to thank him again. Oh, speaking of Melody, she’s here tonight too, right now she’s dancing with some Clan MacIntosh girl but when I see her free I’ll send her your way.”_

_“Thanks, Aunt Ariel,” Emma said. Ariel smiled and dropped a curtsey before leaving, presumably to find Eric or Melody, just before Killian appeared with another drink._

_“There you go, love,” he said. “I’m not sure what they put in their drinks in this kingdom, but I think I’ve discovered a new love affair.” Emma nodded, studying him. A bright open smile, a twinkle in his eye. In some ways, she was reminded of the Captain Hook she had met in the tavern, the man who used sarcasm and innuendo as a second language but at the same time, something was different. Like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, like he was seeing the world differently, breathing for the first time._

_Emma was told by her father to trust her gut and she’d go down the right path. Well, right now, her gut was telling her to take a leap of faith._

_“Killian,” she asked. “Why don’t we take a walk in the garden?” He looked confused by the suggestion but smiled and offered her his arm._

_The whole ballroom watched Princess Emma and Captain Hook walk out of the room together. Emma decided she’d care about that later._

                                                                                          

* * *

 

“Need a hand there?” Emma’s heart sank at the completely familiar voice behind her. Days ago, she would have jumped for joy at that sound. Instead she turned slowly, laden down by grocery bags, to see Patrick, hands stuffed into his back pockets, a bright, expectant smile on his face, despite the drizzle that was slowly turning into a heavy downpour, as well as the cold temperature making Emma shiver under her thick coat. “Pun definitely intended.”

“Patrick,” she sighed. “You’re here.”

“Indeed. I was on my way home myself, but I couldn’t not stop by to help out a lady in distress,” he told her, raising an eyebrow and looking so much like Killian that it hurt her. “So, may I?”

“Look, Patrick…” she sighed, searching for the right way to let him down without losing him altogether. “You’re sweet and I appreciate the offer, but I kind of need to be alone right now.”

“Rough day?” he asked, wincing in sympathy.

“You could say that,” she replied, pushing a wet lock of hair away from her cheek. “There’s just a lot going on right now and I need time to think it over.”

“And a dark walk in the rain is ideal thinking conditions,” he said, his smile faltering slightly. “I get it, Jenny don’t worry. I hope that, whatever’s bothering you, it works out.” Emma nodded in thanks and turned to leave. Her shopping bags hit her legs as she went, making her regret not taking him up on his offer. “And, you know… Maybe one night, we could get together?”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, turning around. Patrick scratched behind his ear nervously, ducking his head slightly.

“I mean, you, me, dinner, movie….” Emma put two and two together, and all at once her heart was lifted and crushed.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” she asked, half groaning, hoping he couldn’t tell.

“Well, I guess, yes,” he said sheepishly. Emma closed her eyes tightly, so he wouldn’t see the tears that began to prick her eyelids.

“Look, Patrick, I’m sorry,” she began. “It’s just….”

“No, I’m sorry,” he interrupted, his face crumpling slightly in embarrassment and he ran his hand through his wet hair. “I sprung it on you, I misread the… You know what, I’m sorry….”

“Look Patrick, I’m flattered, really, but just it’s…. my brother,” she lied. Patrick frowned slightly, sticking his hand into his jacket pocket. “We’ve been on our own for a while, and I guess if I started dating, it would weird him out a bit.” He nodded, his lips rolling into a tight line.

Turns out she was breaking two hearts.

“I’m sorry, Patrick, I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he mumbled, looking at the ground and taking a deep breath before looking up at her with an apologetic smile. “I hope… Can we still be friends?” He extended his hand to her.

“Of course,” she agreed, taking his hand. “Friends.” He squeezed her hand, but it was too light, too weak. Almost no effort behind it. He nodded at her, a puff of breath coming out of his mouth in cold steam.

“You sure you don’t need help with those bags?”

“Positive.” He nodded and smiled before turning away, hands in his pocket rain droplets falling off his fringe and began walking home.

Anger, it turns out, is a great distraction from other elements. Emma barely noticed the worsening rainfall making her jeans cling to her legs and chafe or the chilly temperatures that made her limbs numb or the strain of the bulging bags on her fingers, rubbing them red and raw. All she was focussing on was the anger and pain bubbling inside her.

She kept a calm front as she unpacked the groceries. Something Killian used to say came to mind, how her father reminded him of the sea before a storm. How the water had been so calm, yet he could always tell something was coming. He said he could feel it in the air, making hairs prick up on the back of his neck. Emma supposed that was what she was like now; Jonathan shied away from her, curling up on the armchair, casting fearful glances at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked as she put away groceries with trembling hands and slow, controlled breaths. Emma leaned her head against the wood of her kitchen cupboard and let out a slow, shaky breath, shaking her head slightly.

Princess, saviour, sister, guardian. All these roles, she was getting a little tired of playing them with the cost they seemed to be coming with.

“I’m fine,” she lied in a small voice. “I’m just tired.”

She closed her eyes and heard the small creaks for the Jonathan’s shoes on the floorboards. She thought he was going upstairs, and when she heard him coming closer, she was confused, but was too burnt out to care.

Then she felt the gentle pressure o his arms around her waist, his cheek squashing slightly against her back, rubbing in circles. Despite everything, she smiled, and she placed her hand on his arms. She even let her shoulders drop, being as close to her real brother as she could have been right then.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked. Emma gave a small laugh and shook her head.

“Just hold me, little brother,” she said as tears spilled over her eyes. He tightened his hold on her, like he could physically ward off anything that would harm her.

Just like it had always been; Emma and Bobby.

                                                                                             

* * *

 

_“Is this the part where I get murdered?” Killian asked as Emma pulled him to the side of the castle; a secluded garden with a maze of trees and wildflowers nearly up to their knees. Through the window, she could still see the ball going on, hear the musicians playing, the conversations and laughter.  “Because I know what happens, I’ve read stories.”_

_“Oh, you have?” Emma laughed, eyebrow raised._

_“Yes. The fair maiden is led by the suave, dashing but slightly creepy gentleman into the dark woods, where he murders her and uses her body parts for some vile purpose.” Emma burst out laughing, stopping against a tree._

_“I think you switched the genders there, Killian,” she giggled. “But you think I’m suave and charming?”_

_“Aye, I do,” he said softly. Emma smiled to herself as he looked at her; the same way he looked at the sea, or his ship. “Well, why have you brought me out here if not for some sinister plot?” Emma took a deep breath and tugged on his hand, pulling him closer. She knew she shouldn’t have been afraid, she knew he had changed, she had proof in Ariel’s story, but she still was. People are fickle, or at least it feels like they are when it comes to her heart._

_“What have you been doing since I last saw you?” she asked, running her fingers over the cool metal rings on his hand. She looked down but saw his shoulders tense while his fingers curved around hers._

_“You want the honest truth?” She nodded, her heart getting faster and faster; she could feel it everywhere. He shrugged casually, still toying with her hand. “I took my ship and my crew, and we sailed around. Not stealing, not fighting. Living honourable lives.”_

_“And how did you get by?” she asked. A tiny smile graced his face as his ears and cheeks turned pink._

_“Ran small errands,” he confessed. “Delivering letters, that sort of job. Nothing too special.”_

_“No more grand adventures,” she whispered. “No more swashbuckling swordfights.” She looked up at him, green eyes meeting blue. Her eyes asked questions, his held more answers than he was saying. “And no more heroic acts, either?”_

_“None,” he said flatly. She didn’t know who he was trying to convince with such a lacklustre response._

_“I was talking to my Aunt Ariel inside,” she told him. “And she said she crossed paths with you.” He barely responded; all she got was a slow nod. “She said that you helped her out. Helped get some pirates away from her and her daughter. I don’t know about you but that sounds pretty heroic to me.”_

_“Maybe.” He took her chin in his hand and gently tilted it ever so slightly towards him, his eyes reading her like she was one of his many books. “Emma, if it’s a hero you’re looking for, I’m afraid I can’t be one.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because I’m not one,” he sighed. “I’m not your knight in shining armour.”_

_“I’ll be the judge of that,” she decided. She laced her fingers through his. Her armour began to crack involuntarily. He had that effect on her. “I had a feeling about you. And I was worried about being proven wrong. People before…. They’ve let me down.”_

_“Who could ever willingly let you down?” he asked, pushing her hair out of her eyes._

_“They don’t always do it willingly,” she confessed. Her free hand crept up his arm and wrapped around his neck. “Do you plan on letting me down, Hook?”_

_“Not at all,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “Emma… You said in your letter you thought of me often. Well, if I’m honest, there’s not a day that’s gone by where I haven’t thought of you.” Emma grinned, the thought of her being on his mind making warmth spread throughout her body, her fingers and toes beginning to tingle. “You’re not one who leaves the mind easily.”_

_Emma pushed herself forward, her nose brushing past his until her lips met his. It was soft and tentative, gentle at first, until she opened her mouth and pulled him closer. He tilted his head to invite her, his hand came up to cradle her head, fingers curling into her hair, careful around the pins that kept her hairstyle in place._

_“Gentleman,” she murmured against his lips. He huffed a laugh, his hand coming down from her head to rest on her waist._

_“If your father saw us, I fear he’d shoot me on sight,” he confessed. Emma smiled and rested her forehead on his shoulder._

_“I’d protect you.”_

_“My Saviour.” He wrapped his arm around Emma’s back and began to sway gently in time to the faint music coming from inside. Out here, with him, in his arms, Emma felt safe. Like she was home. And there was something else, too. She didn’t feel like she had found something that she had been missing, but she had found something new and exciting. A puzzle to spend her days figuring out, a book with a new chapter every day._

_She decided knights in shining armour were overrated. She found that she preferred pirates in black leather._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Next chapter we learn about Merlin, his history with Emma and this thing we've been loosely calling a plot for eight chapters starts kicking into gear! Woo hoo!


	9. Chapter 9

_Emma’s tenth birthday party was, as to be expected, quite the affair. The ballroom was draped in streamers of every colour under the rainbow; hanging from the chandeliers, from the windows, from the gallery overhead. Large gold and silver bows were tied tightly around the columns that held up the ceiling, sparkling when they caught the evening sunlight. The marble stairs were covered with thick purple carpet, which was a beautiful compliment for the white of the staircase and perfect for hiding any stains-and with the amount of wine and chocolate that was being served, those stains were a given. The curtains had been changed to light blue, the same as Emma’s sleeveless party dress, and the balcony doors were open to let the cool autumn air into the warm room._

_Emma was, of course, the one everyone had their eyes on. With her golden hair in a loose braid down her back and her dress billowing around her, she was most certainly the belle of the ball. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she whirled from guest to guest, curtseying politely to neighbouring kings and queens who had come just for the occasion, offering her most sincere thanks to them for making the journey, all done in a small, polite voice, meanwhile being considerably less ceremonial and formal with her old family friends._

_“I’m surprised you could make it,” she said to Roland, who had run ahead of his parents the minute they entered the ballroom and he had laid eyes on Emma, despite Marian calling him to slow down. At fourteen, Roland towered over her, his voice beginning to break, but he still retained the soft face and endless energy of his boyhood. Emma was sure he’d never run out of energy. When they raced together in the forest, she nearly always collapsed in exhaustion first. “I was sure they’d mistake you for a petty thief and turn you away at the door.”_

_“They don’t mistake me for a thief,” he giggled, and he lifted a small, silver bracelet out of his pocket, raising an eyebrow. “I am one.”_

_“Roland of Locksley give that back right now!” Emma squeaked, looking around, hoping and praying her parents were not close by. “You’re on thin enough ice with my father already after what happened with the squirrels you let loose in his bedroom-”_

_“I didn’t let them loose in the bedroom, I let them loose upstairs. They just happened to find their way to his bedroom,” he reminded her._

_“If he finds out you’ve been stealing, he’ll definitely ban you from the palace,” she finished, but her words were empty, her concern false. Nothing could make her father banish Roland. Aside from being one of Emma’s closest friends, his parents, Robin Hood and Marian, had been vital to her mother’s survival during the dark times, the reign of the Evil Queen. Marian had protected her by refusing to give up Snow’s location, and the Merry Men had fought alongside her several times. Her family owed his a debt that could never be repaid, and as a result, Roland was welcome in the castle as if it was his own home._

_Even if he loved to test her father’s patience a little more with each visit._

_“Oh, I’ll slip it back on the lady’s wrist before the night is out,” he assured her, putting the bracelet back into the pocket of his jacket. He and his family may still choose to live a relatively simple life; his father went back to running the tavern after Snow was crowned, while his mother was hired to teach archery to Misthaven’s army, but they keep themselves presentable, especially on nights such as tonight. With his crisp white shirt and smart blue jacket, Roland could almost pass for a member of court. “Anyway, let’s sneak a peek at your birthday presents, shall we?”_

_“Roland,” Emma whispered as he made his way up to the back table, which was already supporting quite a number of decorated boxes and bags. “We can’t, not yet.”_

_“Why not?” he asked, his eyes gleaming as he scans the array of gifts._

_“Because my mother said not to,” she replied. “We wait until everyone is here before we start opening gifts.”_

_“Well we’re not opening anything.” His hand trails over each present, poking and prodding to guess what’s inside, tilting some left and right. “Nothing breakable yet.”_

_“Roland,” Emma said. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, I, as your friend and princess, am asking you not to do it.”_

_“Emma, I need to tell you something very, very important,” he said solemnly. “I don’t listen to princesses.”_

_Before Emma could even think of a reply, Roland took off, a gift wrapped in shiny green paper under his arm._

_“Roland!” Emma shouted, momentarily forgetting where she was, and more importantly, who she was with, in order to chase after him._

_Her parents stood at the side, her father’s fist clenching as he maintained a false smile._

_“I know how much you care for Roland,” he whispered to his wife. “I do too, but he gets into more trouble than should be possible for just one person.”_

_“David, he’s a teenager,” Snow sighed, looking from the curious little two year old on her hip to the slightly embarrassed man at her side. “And more than that, a teenage boy. You were one once, and I seem to remember your mother delighting me with tales of what you were like that fourteen.”_

_“I was not as bad as he is,” David protested, watching Emma chase Roland around the ballroom like a dog chasing a cat through a garden. Beside him, Snow didn’t even attempt to disguise her chuckle. “I was not!”_

_“Of course,” she said, looking back to Robert, who was fascinated by the necklace around her neck, his chubby, sticky fingers dancing on the chain. “I just hope you’re not going to be that bad, Bobbie.”_

_Meanwhile, Emma continued to chase Roland, which would have been difficult enough given that his much longer legs allowed him to plough ahead of her, and his years of running up and down the forest meant he was already much faster than her, but factor in the dress and slight heels in her shoes, and it was nearly hopeless._

_Roland began running up the stairs while Emma was still gently pushing her way through the crowd, and Charming began to have the idea to intervene and put a stop to this before someone inevitably got hurt. Emma was getting more and more out of breath and was starting to get frustrated. She felt her hands beginning to tingle and grow warm, but she didn’t question it, thinking it was a combination of the running and the crowded room and the anger._

_Until the present disappeared from Roland’s hands in a cloud of golden sparkles and reappeared in her own hands in under a second._

_It was as though someone had flipped a switch; one moment the ballroom was alive with chatter and music, the next it was completely silent. Emma stared at the package as if it was a feral animal, her hands trembling underneath it. Roland slid down the banister and ran to her side, wiping the tears of confusion that began to leak from her eyes as her cheeks turned red. No one recoiled away from her; that stigma against magic was long gone, but they didn’t move any closer either._

_Emma barely registered her mother helping her away, guiding her slowly out of the ballroom while her father was addressing guests. She took her into an alcove in the hallway and held her until she came back to herself and the shock passed, and her hands stopped shaking._

_“It’s okay, Emma,” Snow whispered, smoothing down her hair. “It’s okay.”_

_“Did I make that happen?” Emma asked, half fearful, half confused._

_“Yes, you did,” she replied, taking the present out of her hands and setting it gently on the floor before holding her daughter’s hands in hers. “And it’s okay, Emma. We did know you having magic was a possibility.”_

_“You did?” Emma asked, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”_

_“Well,” Snow began, wincing. “We thought it best to not tell you, in case it never developed, and you’d be disappointed. Since the curse wasn’t cast, and you were never the Saviour, we just thought that you’d never get magic.”_

_“I wish you had told me,” Emma confessed. “That was scary.”_

_“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Snow said, rubbing her hands up and down her daughter’s arms. “But it’s okay. It’s okay now, we just need to work on helping you learn how to use it.”_

_“How?” Emma asked._

_“Your dad and I can start looking at tutors tomorrow,” she said. Emma nodded, giving a shaky smile. “But that can wait until tomorrow. Now we’ve got a big pile of presents and a party to get back to.”_

                                                                                        *****

The apartment was a pigsty. Apparently between working at Granny’s, trying to break the curse, and the occasional wallowing in her own self-pity, she had forgotten about keeping her apartment in order. Her room wasn’t too bad; clothes strewn on the floor, the bin was a bit overflowing, dirt on the floor but nothing that five minutes with a vacuum cleaner couldn’t fix. The kitchen was a slightly different story; dishes left in the sink, stains on the countertops built up from dinners and coffees and who knew what else, dust collecting on the windowsill. The bathroom sinks needed scrubbing, the toilets needed cleaning, the living room had magazines and wrappers on the floor.

The real mystery was her brother’s room. At home, Robert had never been much for cleanliness. She had lost count of the amount of times she’d listened to her mother tell him to keep his room tidy; there were often periods of time she would chase after him every day, begging him to tidy his room.

“What’s the point?” he’d always say. “I doubt whoever is coming around is going to be sitting in my room.”

“The point is keeping this castle in order!” her mother would sigh as she followed him down the hallway. “And don’t you come crying to me when you can’t find your riding jacket or your sword!”

Emma hastily wiped the tear off her cheek; she could always give some excuse about dust allergies or sneezing if Jonathan asked questions and decided to dedicate her one day off to a deep clean of the apartment. Hopefully it was going to take her mind off the curse. The previous night had been particularly bad; five hours of sleep and more than a few tears shed in the bathroom. The crushing weight of the curse sat on her chest every night, the one she was meant to break. And yet she felt more and more like an anti-Saviour every day. And so small distractions were welcome, even if they did come with twinges of guilt.

“Hey, what’s your room like?” Emma asked her brother at breakfast. His uncombed hair was falling into his eyes, his shirt was unbuttoned, and his tie still sat dangling around his neck. This did not bode well.

“Why?” he asked, drawing his arms closer around him, hunching his shoulders slightly.

He may as well have had ‘you don’t want to know’ tattooed on his forehead.

“Because I’m planning on cleaning this place today,” she said. “Finally breaking into all those cleaning supplies under the sink. Vacuumed carpets, cleaned dishes, polished table tops, the whole enchilada. So, I need to know how bad your room is before I even agree to setting foot in there.”

“It’s not that bad.” Emma raised an eyebrow, making her brother rub the back of his neck. “It could be worse. Hypothetically.” Emma rolled her eyes, laughing into her coffee. “Look, Jenny, don’t do too much to my room. I’ll do the big stuff.”

“Like the barrels of toxic waste?” Emma asked playfully. “Or the alien specimen from Area 51?” Jonathan laughed, bright and happy, not in the way the teenage boys from this realm laughed, but it made Emma smile. “Go get presentable. I’ll walk you to the bus, then make a start on your room.”

“I mean it Jen,” he said again as she walked him to the bus stop, hands stuck in the pockets of her coat. “Just look after the little stuff. When I get home, I’ll tackle the really important stuff.”

“Not before you do your homework,” Emma reminded him.

 As they walked, they passed Jia’s boutique. There in the window was the red coat Emma had admired.  She tried not to look at it, but she still her eyes were drawn to it. Sitting on the mannequin, the red standing vibrant against the black shirt underneath. She wiggled her shoulders, feeling the worn fabric of her own coat with a heavy heart.

After leaving Jonathan at the bus stop, she headed straight back to her apartment and made good on her promise. She used her smartphone to put on some good music; she’s discovered an affection for pop anthems sung by middle aged men released in the 1990s, and first made a start on her room. She managed to almost find a rhythm in it. It wasn’t too different to work at Granny’s, but far less hectic. She could control it. Work at her own speed.

And she’d take anything she can actually control at this point.

The kitchen was almost just as easy; she wiped down counter tops while swaying her hips and singing along to the music coming from her phone, whirling around, dancing and making the kitchen into her own private ballroom.

She moved onto the living room, stacking old magazines up, putting most of them in a pile to be thrown out, keeping some of the ones that were relatively new and worth maybe another read on a boring, slow day (hey, they were trashy, but she couldn’t deny she had a secret fondness for them), vacuumed the floor, then made a start on the coffee table, sifting through old newspapers, finding some of her brother’s textbooks and homework’s. She really needed to have a conversation with him about his organisation skills.

Under the table, she found a dust covered copy of Romeo and Juliet, back from when her and Mr Elliot were still meeting. She curled up on the floor and opened it, fingers gentle against the yellowing pages. Inside the cover, her curse name, Jenny Bird, was written in blue ink, and almost every page was covered with annotations and highlighted words, the handwriting getting less legible as the book went on. Romeo and Juliet had been the first book Jenny and Mr Elliot had worked on together.

Of course, this realm’s version of events were fairly far from what actually happened; making the story far more tragic. The Romeo and Juliet she knew had happily married, escaping their quarrelling families to another land.

One Regina’s curse didn’t hit.

Her heart sank at Mr Elliot’s short annotations on the margins of the pages in his looped cursive she had known since she was a child. Missing Merlin was different to missing Henry or her parents or Killian. He had often kept her sane, been a beacon of hope, helping pull out the best parts of herself. Merlin had shaped her into the person she was; not just with regard to magic but taught her to never give up, to look for a new way, to believe in herself. Killian and her parents had kept her confidence growing, but Merlin was the one who first planted it in her, all those years ago. Made her believe she could be a Saviour.

 Missing her family was a sharp, hot pain in her heart, whereas missing Merlin was a dull ache in her chest. Part of it was because she knew that if he was here, he’d know exactly what to do. He could have the entire curse broke in two minutes.

And he could have been here, but he wasn’t. That was one of the worst parts; knowing Merlin was close to her, just a heartbreak away from regaining his memories, but until then, she was on her own. She had naively thought that he would be waiting for her when she woke up, that he had broken her heart-or rather, Jenny’s heart-on purpose to get her back. But Regina’s curse was clearly stronger than she thought if it was keeping the strongest mind she knew trapped. And the longer she went without his help, the more lost she began to feel.

                                                                                                *****

_The search for Emma’s magic tutor had now taken two weeks. Two weeks of interviews, looking at resumes (some so long they needed to be bound in books), smiling politely as they left and then husband and wife shaking their heads at each other. It was hopeless. For the most part, they were either crotchety old men who took their foreboding aura with them, all wicked smiles and rubbing their hands together, con artists they could tell from the moment that they never had an ounce of magic, or witches from the street who dealt in low magic; mere parlour tricks._

_“This is impossible,” Snow sighed. David’s eyebrows shot up; as far as he was concerned, the word ‘impossible’ and his wife existed in two different universes. He wasn’t entirely sure it was in her vocabulary. “What’s that face for?”_

_“We’ve been married for over ten years,” he said softly. “And I think this is the first time I have ever heard you say the word impossible.” Snow shook her head and smiled but placed her chin on her folded arms._

_“David what if we don’t find someone?” she asked. “What if Emma ends up alone in all this?”_

_“Don’t think like that, there’s still options,” he told her, looking over the list of rejects. “What about that woman from the Northern Isles? She seemed-”_

_“She only works in water magic,” Snow cut him off. “And Emma’s magic isn’t elemental, it’s different. It’s…. I don’t know David, but when I saw it at her birthday, it looked light. It felt light.”_

_“I agree.” The voice didn’t belong to either of them. Snow leapt to her feel, David just behind her, drawing his sword, the two guards at the door in similar positions, running towards the figure standing before them._

_He was young, with incredibly old eyes, handsome and had the kind of smile that told you he knew it. He was being incredibly casual for someone who had apparently broken into the King and Queen’s private chambers. The two swords at his back and one at his chest didn’t faze him at all._

_“You might want to be careful where you point that,” he said, his voice warm and smooth and inviting, gently pushing Charming’s sword away from him. “Someone could get seriously hurt.”_

_“That’s kind of the idea,” Snow said, although it was half hearted at best. “What do you want?”_

_“I’m here to apply for the tutor position,” he said casually. “You did advertise that you wanted a tutor in magic for your young daughter, didn’t you?”_

_“Well…. Yes,” Charming said, sliding his sword back into its sheath, but not letting go of the hilt. “But the thing is, we prefer when applicants knock the door.”_

_“Oh, did I do this wrong?” the stranger asked, sarcasm just rolling off his tongue ever so slightly. “I do apologise. I am a bit out of practice when it comes to this sort of thing.”_

_“Job interviews?” Snow snorted, raising an eyebrow._

_“Talking to people,” he corrected. “Now, my qualifications?” A pile of scrolls, about twelve or thirteen, appeared on the desk, all pristine white paper and tied with blue, red, gold, green and silver ribbons. “I thought I’d take extra care with the presentation. I would very much like this job.” He spoke with such easy confidence that Snow was both impressed and a bit annoyed._

_“Name?” she asked, reaching down to take the first scroll she could reach._

_“You shouldn’t take that one first, that’s number nine,” he told her. “Blue ribbon, second row, that’s the introduction. And my name is Merlin.”_

_Snow could have sworn her heart stopped beating. Ever child in this or any realm knew Merlin. He was a legend, someone little boys pretended to be, and schoolchildren and scholars read books about. Queen Guinevere said she had never even seen him, and she ruled over the land he called home. Her husband was once rumoured to be his chosen one and had dedicated his life to finding him at the expense of his own marriage._

_“Yes, that Merlin,” he said with a smile. Snow stepped around the desk to face him, looking up at his crooked smile and eyes that held such age behind them, and also fear._

_“You’re that Merlin,” she said. “No one has seen or heard from you in centuries. People have long thought you died. Or never even existed in the first place.”_

_“Oh, please,” he laughed. “Death isn’t for me. But you’re right, Snow White. I’ve been away from quite some time.”_

_“Where have you been?”_

_“Not important.” He took a step closer to her. “All that matters now is your daughter.”_

_“Emma?” Snow asked. “Why Emma?”_

_“Don’t play the fool, your Majesty, it doesn’t suit you,” he said without any cruelty. “She’s got a large destiny in front of her. Why else would you send for someone to teach her magic?”_

_“I want Emma to be able to use her gift in the best way she can,” Snow replied. “That’s all. She doesn’t have any destiny. That was destroyed years ago.”_

_“Are you really so naïve?” he asked. “I heard tales about Snow White. Innocent looks and a childish smile hiding a brilliant mind. Do you really think the war with the Evil Queen is over?”_

_Snow wanted to throw up. In the deepest, darkest corner of her mind, she knew. In the eleven years since she and Charming had defeated her, there was still the small presence of doubt. Like a spot of black on an otherwise perfect painting. And she knew that if the Evil Queen was still on the horizon, then her daughter would be tangled up in that mess, forced to carry the Saviour mantle she never agreed to._

_“Of course not,” she whispered, and she heard Charming take in a sharp breath. This was the first time she had admitted it out loud. “You think you can help Emma?”_

_“I know I can,” he replied. “She is destined to become the greatest Queen your people has ever seen, and the second greatest sorcerer this realm has ever seen. Behind me, of course.”_

_Snow turned to look at David, a silent communication between them. After a few moments, his shoulders dropped, his face softened at the fierce faith he saw in her eyes, and he nodded._

_“You have the job,” she said softly._

_“Excellent,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Well this was altogether rather successful interview. Not bad, considering it’s the first one I’ve had in one and a half thousand years.”_

_“You know this will involve you living in or around the palace,” Snow informed him._

_“Oh, yes, yes,” he sighed. “I think I’ll enjoy living here very much.”_

_“You also realise that by tutoring Emma, you ally yourself against the Evil Queen?” she asked._

_“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Merlin said. “Now, if I may, I’d like to speak to Emma, please.”_

_“Of course,” she said quietly, her throat tight. “Give us a moment, then we’ll take you up to meet her.”_

_He smiled, gave a half bow, and rather than walking out, he simply waved his hand and was gone._

_If he was going to be like this the whole time, it was going to be charming or infuriating._

_Speaking of Charming, her husband appeared at her side once Merlin was gone. He wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist and softly pried her hand open to hold it._

_“Why didn’t you tell me about the Evil Queen?” he asked hoarsely. Snow shook her head and rested her cheek on his arm._

_“Because I put it away,” she confessed. “Put all of that in a little box, locked it up with a key and buried it under layers and layers of love for my family. We have such a great life, David. More than I ever thought we’d get. Two beautiful children, wonderful friends, a kingdom that only gets more prosperous with each passing day. And I just thought that if I said it out loud, everything we worked so hard to build would come crashing down.”_

_“Snow.” David turned his wife to face him, running his finger along the dimple in her chin. “No matter what, you need to tell me things. Our love is based on the fact that we work together. And we can’t do that if you don’t share your burdens with me.”_

_Snow sighed and caressed his cheek gently, her fingertips reaching up to touch his light brown hair._

_“Okay,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”_

_“Yes, you should have,” he laughed, then his face turned serious. “And if what you fear is true, I just hope Merlin can help Emma in time.”_

_“He can,” Snow insisted. “I know he can. He has to. He’ll help her, and when the time comes, she’ll save us.” She gave a half hearted smile. “If it ever comes to pass.”_

                                                                                                ******

Elliot’s fingertips and shoulders were almost screaming in protest as he carried the yellow plastic box, filled to the brim with copies of Macbeth, towards his car, walking across the near deserted parking lot of Storybrooke High School. His scarf blew in his face more times than he cared for and he had let the sunshine that morning trick him into thinking his old brown jacket would do the trick. No such luck; goose bumps were forming up and down his arms as he walked to his car and opened up the boot to deposit the bulging box.

He slammed the boot of his car closed and leaned against it, palms against the metal, back arched, heels digging into the tarmac. It wasn’t just the physical elements he was battling against; it was guilt. He had always been the sort to be hard on himself, and his mind was constantly offering up the image of Jenny’s false smile and sad eyes that were avoiding him at any and all cost. He had screwed her over badly, and he knew that. He had been a coward; let Regina intimidate him into dropping what had been the highlight of his week and something that had meant the world to a lonely young girl with little else.

And now he couldn’t do anything about it. He could beg and argue and plead with Regina and even in the tiniest possible even she said yes to allowing him to teach Jenny again, she wanted nothing to do with him, and frankly, he couldn’t blame her. Maybe Jenny was telling the truth and she was simply too busy. Maybe he was imagining the hurt flashing in her eyes when she looked at him, the way she avoided talking to him for longer than necessary. Maybe he was overthinking the way her brother had started putting minimal effort into his class and hurrying out before the bell even finished ringing.

Or maybe he was being an idiot and trying to protect what was left of his fragile ego by fooling himself like that.

He shook his head, cursed at himself under his breath, and took his keys out of his pocket, fumbling with them as they caught on the loose threads of his coat.

“Having trouble?” a voice asked from behind him, laced with sarcasm and venom. Elliot took in a deep breath, forced himself to be composed and turned to see the Mayor standing behind him; her black suit impeccably clean, her dark hair framing her pale face, a cool smile on her red lips that made his stomach churn.

“Madam Mayor. How long have you been there?”

“Not long,” she shrugged. She strolled towards him, the clicking of her heels echoing off the tarmac. He felt each one right in his gut. She stopped not even five inches from him. This close he could smell the perfume on her, see the grey streaks in her hair she tried to cover up with black dye. “I’ve wanted to have a little chat with you.”

“About what?” he sighed, leaning on the boot of his car.

“I feel it was wrong of me to force your hand with young Jenny,” she said, cocking her head to the side. Her words said one thing, her tone said another. Her words implied she was going to let him have whatever arrangement he wanted with Jenny, her tone told him she was building up to a twisted punchline.

“It was?” he said flatly. Her smile faltered slightly, and he did get some satisfaction out of that.

“Yes,” she said. “Clearly, being apart from the girl hasn’t been good for you.”

“I broke her heart,” he replied. “I took a young girl’s safe haven and crushed it. It doesn’t weigh easy on the conscience.”

“Yes, a guilty conscience is a terrible thing,” she sighed. He wanted to ask how she knew that but held it back. Getting in a fight with the Mayor was never a wise idea. It would barely be considered a fight; she would have him destroyed before he was able to throw a punch. “And I hear it’s affecting your work. Making you distracted, forgetful. Not giving your students the time and attention they deserve.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Anonymous reports from concerned parents.”

“They’re lies,” he insisted. “I’ve been working just as efficiently as I always have been, ask any of my students.”

“Are you sure about that?” she countered, stepping closer, locking him between her and his car. “I’ve had parents writing to me, saying students are unhappy with the way you teach. You don’t hand back homework’s, you give unfair grades…”

“That’s not true,” he said. He was a great teacher, he was sure of it.

Wasn’t he?

He couldn’t remember any slip-ups, any times students had asked for missing homework’s or complained about a grade. He tired to think back those past few weeks, but things started to become more blurred. Memories fading into grey, confusion clouding his thoughts. Images of children rolling their eyes at test results, angry words under their breath directed at him. He could have sworn he was imagining that, letting Regina get in his head…. And yet… somehow it felt real.

“Mr Elliot, you’re a good man, and I’m sure you used to be a wonderful teacher,” she went on. “But this town prides itself on excellence, and you can see why we can’t have a weak link in the chain.”

“What?” he rasped.

“Collect your things from your classroom, Elliot,” he told him. “I’ve already spoken with the headmaster, and he and I both agree you’d be better suited elsewhere.”

“No.”

“He does find your apparent favouritism towards Jonathan Bird rather unsettling. And the less said about your infatuation with Jenny, the better.”

“Now listen,” he said, stepping forward, pushing Regina back. Her mouth fell into a small ‘o’. “I don’t like what you’re implying about me and Jenny.”

“No one does,” she responded, eyebrows knotting together.

“Then don’t do this.”

“It’s already done. Collect your things from your classroom tomorrow morning and pick up your last pay check.”

Elliot stumbled backwards, his head beginning to ring. The rest of the scene melted away, but Regina stayed perfect where she was; pale skin and dark eyes and red lips. She lifted her chin up, grinning like a school child. She was getting pleasure from this, official business or not.

“Why me?” he whispered. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You know what you did,” she hissed, gritting her teeth. Her hand jerked forward to grab his chin, but she clenched her first and slowly brought it down. “Not anymore, but you know what you did to me.”

                                                                                            *****

_Emma paused at the door to the astronomy tower, her hand curling into a fist just inches from the wood, the notebook her Aunt Red had gifted her for her birthday tucked under her other arm. The tower hadn’t been used in a long while; not since the time when Snow’s own grandfather was King. Her father had never seen the need for it and… well Snow had spent too much time hiding from the Evil Queen to use it. Merlin had decided it was the perfect place for his and Emma’s lessons; out of the way of everyone else (“Should something go terribly wrong and we cause a massive explosion,” he had said with a wink, making Robert’s jaw drop and Emma’s stomach churn. Blowing out the walls of the astronomy tower wouldn’t exactly make her a popular Queen), with “everything we could possibly need”. Emma wished Merlin would stop speaking in so many riddles and cryptic statements with an eyebrow raised. If he thought he was being exciting, he was wrong; he was being irritating._

_The door swung open, revealing her tutor himself, standing with a broad smile on his face._

_“Emma! I was beginning to think you got lost. Come in, come in,” he said, as if this was his home and she was the visitor._

_Walking into the tower, she felt like that may as well have been the case. He had been moving some things up in the past few days, things to make their lessons easier and make himself feel more ‘at home’. Immediately she could identify what was new; there wasn’t much in the astronomy tower anyway. A tall bookstand with a lion’s head, a red leather bound book resting upon it, a large stand with a silver birdcage, a small blackboard with a rough looking frame. Emma didn’t even notice Merlin closing the door behind her._

_“Take a seat, why don’t we get started?” Emma sat at the long table, inching her chair slightly closer to Merlin. He smiled. “Now the first thing we’re going to start with his the history of magic, all the way back to the Dark Ages. You’d better start writing this down, because I’ll be expecting five pages from you in ten days’ time. Now it’s suspected that the first sorcerers….”_

_Emma found herself writing almost as quickly as he was talking; and she was positive he was speeding up to spite her. Her wrist began to ache, but she pushed through it as she wrote page after page, copying every one of Merlin’s words down precisely as he said it. Until he started chuckling, softly and silently at first, and Emma didn’t even notice, then it got stronger and Emma dropped her pen to watch her tutor lean on the table, shaking with laughter._

_“I’m sorry, that’s the first joke I have had in centuries,” he explained. Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. While he may have been her tutor, and her elder, and the most powerful wizard ever known, he was a pain in her behind. He must have sensed her frustration with him, or maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions as she thought, because he stopped laughing and crossed over to her, kneeling down to look at her. “I’m sorry, Princess. We can get to proper magic now.”_

_“No essays?”_

_“Not for a long while,” he smiled. “Come.” He took her by the hand and helped her to stand. “You’re born of true love. And you’re the Saviour, destined to break the curse-”_

_“I was meant to break the curse,” she corrected. “My parents stopped the Queen.”_

_“Ah, of course,” he said. “Forgive me. Your Highness. Don’t get a lot of news updates when you’re stuck in a tree.”_

_“You were in a tree?” Emma asked, wrinkling her nose._

_“We’re getting off topic,” he scolded lightly. “Now, you are the product of True Love, and the Saviour, meaning your magic is stronger than most other light magic wielders. Incredibly strong in fact. With the right training, you’ll be able to do incredible things; move mountains, tame oceans, raise beanstalks, talk to dragons…” Merlin didn’t leave much to the imagination. His every word made Emma more and more excited, picturing herself on the bow of a ship, commanding the elements to her will, steering her armies out of danger. She could see herself on the back of a dragon, arms outstretched, the wind tearing at her hair, roses blooming under her feet as she walked, barren fields growing grain at her command. “And we’ll start…. By opening a window.”_

_“A window?” Emma asked. Merlin pulled her out of her dream and planted her firmly on earth. “Opening a window?”_

_“We all need to start somewhere,” he said, shrugging._

_“But I don’t even need magic to do that!” she protested._

_“True but mastering this will open the door to so many possibilities.”_

_“You’re not serious.”_

_“Maybe, maybe not.” He turned Emma slightly to the left, bringing the small window in the tower into her field of vision. “Make the window open.” His voice was soft, despite the command he gave her. Gentle. He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze before letting her go._

_“Open,” she commanded. The window didn’t bulge. She thought about the portraits and drawings of witches and wizards she had seen before, and copied their stance; arms outstretched, feet apart, knees bent. She even tried to mimic their face-mouth set in a hard line, brows knitted together in concentration. She took in a deep breath, her entire body tensed, and gave a silent command for the window to open._

_Still nothing. Emma sighed and leaned back against the table._

_“Do you want help?”_

_“No,” she answered. “I can do it myself.”_

_“If you’re sure,” he said, and went back to reading his book. Emma wondered what it was. Surely it had to be an ancient spell book, holding secrets no one but he knew. Merlin looked up and smiled as he found her looking at his book. “It’s a cookbook.” He turned and showed her the page, which bared an illustration of a pie. “I just stumbled upon the most wonderful recipe for chicken pie.”_

_“You cook?”_

_“Even immortal sorcerers need a hobby,” he told her. “Did you think I spent all my days up in big towers looking at spell books and muttering ‘damn trolls’?” Emma laughed before she could stop herself, and Merlin grinned._

_Emma turned back to the window, giving her hands a shake. Commanding it didn’t work, trying to force it didn’t work._

_She could always try asking it._

_Emma closed her eyes and steadied herself. She took in a deep breath and tried to clear to mind. She outstretched her hand again._

_“Will you open for me?” For the first time, she began to feel something. Her body tingled, a warm glow spreading from her chest and trickling like water down her arms, spreading throughout her hand, touching her fingertips._

_When she opened her eyes, the window was still shut._

_“Oh, come on!” she whined._

_“If it helps,” Merlin said, looking up from over the book. “You were close that time.”_

_“I know,” Emma sighed. “I-I felt it. It was working.”_

_“If it was working, then try it again,” he told her. “Just make a little change.”_

_Emma turned to the window. ‘Make a little change’. She thought about what she had done before; commanding, asking, forcing. There had to be something she hadn’t tried. She looked around the room for inspiration, eyes darting around the place until they landed on something; her mother’s old bow, used when she lived in the forest. When Emma had asked her how she kept faith during those times when the Evil Queen hunted her, Snow had always said she believed things would be better one day._

_An idea crept into Emma’s mind. Belief._

_She closed her eyes again and stretched out her hand. She pictured the window opening over and over in her mind. It will open, she thought. The window will open. It will. It will._

_Creaking cut through the silence. Emma tensed, not wanting to open her eyes in case she was wrong. In case she hadn’t done it._

_But she had. When she opened her eyes, she saw the window of the tower hanging open._

_“I did it!” she declared, jumping on the spot. “Merlin, look I did it-”_

_She was interrupted by a terrible crack behind her. She turned to see the window had fallen off its hinges. Heart in mouth, she ran to the window. The glass frame and its wooden frame were plummeting down to the ground, and Emma cursed Merlin for wanting to have their lessons in the highest possible point of the castle. She swore time slowed down as the window grew smaller and smaller until it landed on the cobblestones below. She heard a faint, tiny crash, and though she couldn’t see it, she knew the glass was in pieces._

_She turned to Merlin, who had come over to the window to see what had happened. He was wincing in sympathy at her as a high pitched scream trickled out of her mouth._

_“My mother’s going to kill me!” she whined, then a pit of guilt formed in her stomach. “I got a bit over excited.”_

_“It’ll be our little secret, Princess,” he said with a wink. Before Emma could ask anything, he waved his hand and the broken pieces of the window flew up in the blink of an eye, rearranging themselves and slotting themselves into their rightful places, and it looked as if nothing had happened at all. “I think I’m going to enjoy myself here.”_

                                                                                                *****

Elliot didn’t register anything on the drive home. Like he was on autopilot; he didn’t register getting into his car or driving through the twists and turns home or getting out of the car or walking to the kitchen. He simply ended up in his kitchen, leaning one of the two small wooden chairs at the round wooden table he ate breakfast at every morning and ate dinner at every night. The curtains were still drawn, he must have been too busy that morning to open them, and it makes the whole room look darker; the walls are a far cry from the sunshine he imagined they’d be like when he painted them yellow, instead the muted hue makes it look drab and unimaginative.

Whoever heard of an unimaginative English teacher?

He reaches out of throws the first thing he can find, which is a newspaper which lands with a dissatisfying light smack against the wall. It’s not enough for him; the anger and pain makes him restless and he just starts tossing anything he can get his hands on, not paying any attention to what it is or where he’s throwing it. An apple hits the wall and stains it, his keys scratch the wall and hit the floor, a discarded glasses case bounces off the wall and chips the paint. He wants to keep going until he feels better, feels like he should keep going until it’s all out of his system. Instead he sinks into the kitchen chair and puts his head in his hands. There was a pile of envelopes on the table; bills he could no longer pay because he longer has a job.

He crossed the room to the locked cabinet, dark wood and dusty, the one part of the house he had never bothered to clean. He hadn’t had a smoke in years, swearing off the habit when he realised how much he had destroyed his lungs and how close he was to killing himself. He beat cravings year after year until he was almost completely clean, and now here he was, falling down the rabbit hole again.

He hated himself as he turned the key and slowly, inch by inch, pulled the door open. The cigarette packet sat in tucked in the corner, from one time he nearly fell back on old habits, when…. He can’t recall. In front of them there was a rock, of all things. Well, more accurately, it was a pebble. It was smooth in the palm of his hand, and a dull purple. Elliot had to wonder what he had been doing when he picked it up and why he had placed it, of all places, in his cigarette cupboard. He tossed it from one hand to the other, his eyes flicked up to the cigarettes and back to the pebble. As he ran his hand over it, it began to feel….. Alive. He could have sworn it was humming, growing warmer as he held it. Which should have been impossible; stones don’t grow warmer.

Then in a flash, he feels it.

_Emma, the astronomy tower, her wedding, the curse, magic, the Enchanted Forest, the Evil Queen, Snow White, Prince Charming, Captain Hook, Emma._

Merlin let the stone fall to the floor and crack on the tiles. It doesn’t matter now; it’s done its purpose. Two lives clashed in his mind; the dull life of Elliot and his own, longer life, happier and sadder, brighter and more dull and infinitely more exciting.

A smile crept across his face as his mind began to clear and he remembered the important details. Remembered every conversation he had with Jenny, putting the pieces into place.

“Emma, you clever little thing,” he said, and he flew out the door, not even bothering with a coat.

                                                                                          *****

Emma sifted through the small pile of letters that ad been waiting on her doorstep when she got home. Poster for some Pilates class (she hated the fact that she was tempted to try it), bank statement (how did she spend so much on food this week?), leaflet for the nun’s (fairies in her world) charity drive, and the dreaded bills. Electricity and heating and lighting. This world might be more advanced, but it wasn’t without its costs. Looking at them, Emma understood more clearly than ever why people had petitioned and rioted for her grandfather to lower taxes. When she had read it in a history book she could comprehend it; high taxes lead to people wanting better treatment. Perfectly simple. But living it was different; she was struggling to pay bills and make ends meet, things she had never had to worry about in her palace.

Her parents were fair rulers, her kingdom just and as fair as it could be, but that didn’t mean people weren’t poor. She and her parents tried to do what they could; she took young women into the palace and gave them positions as ladies in waiting, she and her mother had devised a scheme to send all children, no matter where they came from or how much money they had, through school until they were at least 15, overall school fees had been lowered and the costs of physicians had been cut. But Emma wasn’t a fool. Bad harvests and storms and raids happened and people far below her own station paid the price.

She wondered what would happen when the curse was broken, how her family would run this land. She knew it would be with the same fairness they had ruled their Kingdom, but they were going to have to adapt to new challenges.

A knock at the door brought Emma out of her thoughts and made her jump. It was sharp and fast and sounded desperate. By the sounds of it, whoever it was knocked on the glass pane of the door and Emma was concerned they were going to break the glass.

“Please don’t break it,” Emma muttered as she went to answer; the cost of repairs didn’t bare thinking.

Elliot stood on the other side of the door, breathless, panting, clutching the doorframe. He looked at her, half smiling, his eyes bright and… Clear.

“Emma,” he said. She froze, not trusting her own perception for half a moment, before she realises what something as simple as her own name is. A name she hasn’t heard in too long.

“Merlin,” she replied. He didn’t even have time to nod before she jumped at him, throwing her arms around him and laughing maniacally. He responds by lifting her off her feet for a moment; she felt completely weightless. She forgot about the curse, the bills, the Queen, letting pure joy overtake every thought in her mind.

“Jenny?” Jonathan asked from behind her.

Merlin lowered Emma to the ground, fear dancing in his eyes as his lips rolled into a thin line. Emma’s fists clenched as she turned to face her brother with her heart in her mouth. Jonathan’s fingers danced along the hem of his jumper, weaving in and out of the fabric while his eyes darted from his sister to his teacher, cogs beginning to whir in his mind, puzzle pieces created by Regina slotting together.

“Mr Elliot just came by to say that he think he can start tutoring me again,” Emma lied. She had become so good at lying. “I just got over excited.” Jonathan gave a small nod, his eyes fixed on Elliot, who shifted nervously.

“I’m going upstairs,” he said in a thin voice. “I got… homework.”

Emma could only watch helplessly as he crept upstairs, twisting one hand into his jumper while sliding the other along the banister, walking like he was weighed down. He left Emma in the vast entryway, still looking at the top of the stairs, listening to his bedroom door creak open and click softly shut. The happiness she had felt with Merlin barely a minute ago felt so far away as a dull ache spread across her chest; it felt like it was eating away at her bit by bit, and numbness crept through her limbs.

“I think,” she began in a low voice, turning to Merlin. “I think I should bring you up to speed.”

                                                                                        *****

_A bright white ball flew across the astronomy room; Merlin caught it, letting it hover on the palm of his hand before he swirled and threw it back at a laughing fifteen year old Emma, who stopped it with one hand before sliding the other one underneath for balance. She looked at her tutor, excitement gleaming in her green eyes, before she began tossing it from hand to hand. She tried to act careless, but there was a tension in her shoulders and her eyes stayed on the ball that betrayed her,_

_“Tell me what this is meant to be teaching me?” Emma asked. “Because I’ve been conjuring light like this since I was eleven.”_

_“Someone’s a cocky little sorceress,” Merlin remarked lightly. “But if you need to know, I’m trying to teach you direction. Channelling your powers a certain, specific way. Tossing the light between us, the magic was only going one way, that kept it stable.” He raised an eyebrow as Emma kept bouncing the ball between her hands. “For example….”_

_Emma looked down at the ball in her hands and realised that the once stable, defined white ball was beginning to lose its shape; crackling and sizzling._

_“Oh no,” she sighed, telling herself not to panic. She closed her hands on it, pushing it down, and moved her hands around it to wipe away the static and make it calm. “Merlin am I doing this right?”_

_“Quite right,” he said. Emma looked down, seeing the ball become more defined, but still looking fuzzy and feeling wrong. It wasn’t the warm glow that she had been tossing around with Merlin, it felt almost spiked and definitely a few steps away from dangerous. “Here why don’t I-”_

_“No, I can do it myself,” she insisted, continuing to press on the ball. “Be calm, please be calm.” She kept repeating the routine, running her hands over it, pressing down and telling both herself and the light that it was going to calm down. When the pressure in her chest eased and she found it easier to breathe, she opened her eyes. Once again, the magic was formed in a perfect sphere, glowing white like her own star, radiating gentleness. She looked from the ball up to an impress Merlin. “You see?”_

_“I see,” he answered. “You’re getting better every day, your Highness.” He held up his hands and nodded to indicate to her to toss it over. When she did, he caught the ball in his hands and closed them around it, making it disappear altogether._

_“I was enjoying that game,” Emma remarked, placing one knee on her chair and her hand on the table for balance._

_“I saw,” he replied. “Although sadly, the time for games has ended. After all, your parents pay me to teach you, not to help you destroy their tower during a game of magical catch.” Emma snorted and sat down on her chair. “Now, what was the point of that lesson?”_

_“Like you said, directing my magic,” Emma answered. “Channelling it.”_

_“And why might I need you to do that?” he asked. Emma tapped her pen against the desk._

_“Um, in case you were only trying to hit one thing with it?”_

_“Can you give me an example?”_

_“Okay… So if I was trying to use my magic to make one specific tree grow. I’d have to direct my magic just to that tree and nothing else,” she answered. “That’s why I need to channel it.”_

_“Good one,” he said with a smile. “Channelling your magic makes it more effective against the object of the spell, and in other situations can minimise damage.”_

_“Why would I need to minimise damage?” Emma asked while she ran her dry pen over her hand, drawing invisible patterns. Merlin shook his head half-heartedly._

_“No reason,” he said. “Not for right now anyway.” Emma wondered, not for the first time, if he was referring to the Dark Curse-the one thing they never spoke about. He did say they’d get in to learning about curses sooner rather than later- ranging from petty hexes to blood curses-but he, like her parents, managed to always delicately skirt around the topic of that specific curse. Still, they didn’t need to talk about it. It was ancient history. At least, that’s what her father and mother insisted._

_Merlin seemed to be different. It wasn’t what he said, it was what he didn’t say. It was how he taught her magical defences she could never need in her life. It was how he and her mother sometimes shared secret talks in alcoves when they thought Emma couldn’t see; hushed tones and worried faces._

_“Have you ever needed to minimise damage?” she asked cautiously. Merlin chuckled, but it was hesitant at best. The chalk in his hand was flipped between his fingers._

_“Sometimes,” he whispered. “Once or twice.” Emma nodded, not pushing the conversation any further. “Hopefully, you won’t need to for a long, long time.”_

_“Can magic be used to hurt people?” she asked, looking down at her own hand._

_“Sometimes,” he answered. “And that’s not always a bad thing. Not if what you’re hurting is worse than what you’re protecting.”_

_“I’ve heard stories about people who had magic and used it for bad,” Emma said. “People like the Evil Queen, or people like those old geezers who used magic to fight terf wars.” Merlin sat down on the other chair and tilted Emma’s chin to make her look at him._

_“Did you just call me a geezer?” he asked, and Emma burst into peals of laughter._

_“No, not you,” she said. “But you’ve heard the stories.”_

_“I’ve lived some of them,” he responded, half smiling. “But to go back to what you were saying, that’s the thing about magic. It’s not good or bad. It’s just there. It’s the people who use it who are good or bad.” Emma presses the tip of her pen into her hand. “And you Princess Emma are very, very good.” He taps her nose lightly, making her wrinkle it._

_“People think magic is the bad thing,” she told him. “That everyone who uses it is bad. They don’t want a Queen to have magic.”_

_“Then you’ll have to prove them wrong,” he said. “And you will. One day you’ll be one of the greatest heroes this kingdom has ever seen.”_

_“You think?” she asked, her cheeks beginning to glow._

_“I don’t think anything. I know,” he said. “Now let’s get back to this. You can’t prove anyone wrong if you don’t know your stuff.” He lifted a book off his small pile and handed it over to her open at a certain page, explaining to her the depths and complexities of her gift._

                                                                                                      *****

Emma poured two mugs of coffee in her kitchen, Merlin sitting in her chair. He looked more like himself. Even before the clarity and twinkle in his eyes, even the way he was holding himself reminded her of her tutor; he leant back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other and his elbow sitting on the table while he held his chin higher than anyone else would.

“So how long have you been awake?” he asked as she sat down and handed him his mug.

“Two months so far,” she answered. “It’s been a long time.” He nods sadly, taking a small sip of his coffee.

“You came to me,” he said. “You came to my house. I-Elliot, just brushed you off. Thought you were upset or…. I don’t know.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” she reminded him. “It was the curse. I was the only one awake.”

“I take it that’s still the case.” Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Having Merlin here meant she was able to share her burden, lighten the load as it were, but she had kept it to herself this whole time and having to share it would make it real.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Everyone else, I look at them and they’re not there. Their eyes…. They’re empty, Merlin. I look at people every day and they don’t look back. I look at my brother, I see his face but I don’t see him. I hear him speak but it’s not Robert talking to me. He’s just saying what Regina’s programmed him to say. Ruby, Belle, Killian… They’re all here but not here.” She pulls her hair back, trying to find her composure. It all feels like something is being lifted off her chest and she can breathe, but at the same time it’s uncontrollable. She can’t stop herself form talking. Merlin doesn’t seem to mind, though. His hand covers her, his face anguished. “I’m surrounded by people, people who look like people I care about and love, but they’re not them.”

“You’ve had a heavy burden placed on you, Emma. For far too long,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“You couldn’t have been,” she told him, taking a long drink. “But I was surprised that you weren’t. I thought you’d have woken up on the first day.” Merlin chuckled then.

“I’m flattered,” he said. “But it seemed the Queen was far more interested in torturing you than me. That’s why you woke up first. You had to be at rock bottom for the magic to work.” Emma gave a bitter, humourless laugh. Lucky her that the Queen wanted to wreck her life before anyone else’s. “But you know now where everyone is. Who everyone is.”

“Yes,” she said. “My father is in the hospital in a coma, my mother is a teacher, Ruby works at the diner, Belle’s a librarian, Killian works at the docks and Henry…” The words caught in her throat, making it close up. “Henry’s her son.”

Merlin nodded slowly.

“Makes sense,” she muttered, more to herself than Merlin. “My mother said all she wanted was someone to love her.” She looked down at her hands while her eyes burned with tears. “She’s hurting him. I see him in the diner and the way he acts… it’s not him. He’s quieter. He looks smaller. She made him small.”

Emma didn’t even realise she was crying until Merlin came around to her chair and hugged her tightly and the tears dropped onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I miss them,” she cried. “I miss them all. Know what the worst of it all is?” Merlin knelt in front of her and clasped her hands in his, his thumb rubbing gently on the back of her hand. “Patrick-Killian, he was interested in me. I was getting through to him! He asked me out and I had to turn him down.”

“You had to?”

“Regina. She’d do something if I said yes. Kill him or Robert or go after my parents,” she explained. “So I had to turn him down and let him walk away thinking I don’t love him. Because that’s what a Saviour does isn’t it? Puts everyone else before herself.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he sighed. “It isn’t fair and it shouldn’t be you.”

“Well it is,” she said. “I go get true loves back together and don’t even get mine.” Merlin’s eyebrows raised at her admission.

“You got true loves back together?”

“Yeah,” she answered, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Mulan and Merida-or Jia and Clover. I um, I got them a place they can hang out. Knowing them they’re probably heading there right now.” She bit her lip, smiling despite her pain. “I’m happy that they’re back with each other but… it just feels like I’m going to have to wait until last.”

“Unfortunately that may be the case,” he said. “But this is good, Emma. Getting Mulan and Merida together, it weakened the curse. Every time you give back a happy ending, Regina’s magic loses its power. I mean do you really think I’d have been able to talk to you if Regina’s influence wasn’t fading?” Emma’s cheeks began to turn red at the praise in his eyes. “So you keep doing what you are doing. Speaking of which…. Where’s Hook?” Emma tensed, her hands wrapping around her coffee, letting the heat soak through her cold hands. “Emma? I thought you’d have gone after him once you woke up.”

“I tried,” she admitted, steeling herself. “I did. And he was… He responded. He was interested, he wanted to go out.” She took in another deep breath and pressed her hands between her knees to keep them from shaking.

“I would say that’s great,” Merlin said. “But given that you look like you’re about to cry I think it’s not.”

“Regina knows I’m awake and she… I’m afraid of what she’ll do to him if I do try to go for it,” she choked out. “Do to him or Robert or my parents or Henry if I go near him.” She stood up, knocking over her coffee mug and not caring. Everything finally came pouring out of her, things she didn’t even know she thought until now. “So I’m staying away from him. I made from excuse about how Jonathan wouldn’t be comfortable with me dating him, and I stay away and it kills me a little more each day. I’m out here reuniting people with people they love while my son is basically being kidnapped, my dad is in a coma, my mother is lonely and my husband thinks I don't want to be with him! Even my brother, who I see every day, I can’t talk to about any of this! And I can't take the chance that it'll weaken the curse because all of them might be dead before it breaks if I do!”

“Oh, Emma,” he sighed. He pulled her into a tight hug. “You’ve been so brave.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she confessed into his shoulder.

“Well, now you don’t have to be,” he said, pulling away from her. “Because I’m here. And now I can see you do what you were born to do.”

“Which is?”

Merlin gave her a smirk.

“Make the Evil Queen come crawling with her tail between her legs.”

                                                                                                     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo hoo!   
> Next chapter, we meet Emma's best friend, and in Storybrooke, Emma and the now-awake Merlin try to settle a quarrel between two sisters....

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to leave a comment if you liked it, they stroke my ego.


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